Galactic Sunrise
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: Tatooinian Sunset sequel. With the fall of the Emperor comes the glorious rise of the Republic...At least, that was the assumption. But with the Empire's heart beating strongly while the Republic's greatest heroes heal and reflect, will democracy prevail?
1. Hurting

**Rating: No language, some violence.**  
**Disclaimer: _Star Wars_ is the property of George Lucas. No money is made off this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. Some (edited) dialogue from Timothy Zahn's _Heir to the Empire_ is used in Chapter 8, and that is also not mine.  
Dedication: This story is dedicated to my wonderful mother, who passed away in September of 2009.  
Author's Thanks: A thousand thanks to all who reviewed Tatooinian Sunset!**  
**Author's Notes: Non-Basic speech and flashbacks are in _italics_.**  
**Characters: Major characters include Luke, Leia, Anakin Skywalker, Mara, and Obi-Wan. Other big characters include Bail Organa, Yoda, and Qui-Gon.  
Recap of _Tatooinian Sunset_: Baby Luke was taken from the Lars to be raised by Tuskens as Chinnatah. He was found by Vader, who called him Sun, and he made friends with the Emperor's Hand, Mara Jade. He ran away and got caught up with Han and Chewie, who helped him meet Obi-Wan and Leia. Obi-Wan lived with Bail and Leia on Alderaan, training Leia in the Force. On the Death Star, Palpatine was killed and Vader converted and partially healed. Vader (now Anakin) made sure the Death Star was destroyed. This sequel is set after the celebration on Yavin IV.**

* * *

"He's a cheater," Biggs Darklighter muttered. He was trying to keep his expression serious, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was betraying him shamelessly. Finally giving up, he threw an amused glance toward his two shorter male companions, both of whom were, like him, wearing orange Alliance pilot jumpsuits. The color of their clothes provided a strange contrast with the rock walls of the Massassi temple serving as their temporary home, but Biggs liked standing out and was glad of it. He was, after all, someone who regularly wore capes.

Grinning at his two friends, Biggs shook his head, pulled at his mustache, and continued insisting, "I'm telling you, there's no way a one-time Tusken could defeat us both that quickly."

"I can't help it if you are both as slow as—" Biggs's new friend paused to search for the word of a Tatooinian reptavian in Basic, finally recalling it with pride and finishing, "—woodoo."

Wedge Antilles held up a threatening finger as he narrowed his eyes. "We'll get you next time, Luke. Just you wait."

"I will look forward to it," Luke Skywalker smiled. He often talked slowly or paused to find words, but none of his friends begrudged him the lost time. They knew his background. He showed improvement in Basic every day, and a few people he'd met had even been surprised to learn he wasn't a native Basic speaker. His tutor droid Opakwa was especially encouraged by his progress. Luke—against his better judgment, Biggs was sure—had saved the droid from the Death Star during the superstation's evacuation. Though Luke tried to hide it, Biggs suspected he felt something akin to affection for the machine. Biggs certainly couldn't think of any other reason that his friend would've saved the droid. Even _that_ reason was rather mystifying.

Wedge grinned back at Luke, but his facial expression slowly became somber and pensive, and he looked at Biggs meaningfully. Biggs nodded at him, and they began to slowly escort Luke into the empty mess hall. After looking around to ensure no one was in earshot, Wedge tentatively began, "We've, uh, we've been wanting to ask you something, Luke..."

Luke simply looked at him expectantly. Sometimes, the young man didn't say anything at a time when most humans would. It was often disquieting to his friends, but they usually mentally chalked it down to an amused "That's Luke, for you." On rare occasions, however, like now, his friends were thankful for his quiet nature.

"Well, I know Vader defected with a lot of other Imperials to the Alliance, but, uh..." Wedge trailed off and looked helplessly at Biggs.

The other young man rubbed a hand nervously across his dark mustache. Vader had insisted on people's calling him simply "Anakin," but Wedge and Biggs both suspected there was something being hidden by him and the rest of the group which had brought down Palpatine. Another worry was far more pressing, however, so Biggs finally cleared his throat and spoke it out loud. "Luke, we want to know if you think Vader's really on our side."

Luke glanced at the pair briefly before averting his gaze to the floor. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with the subject, but he was usually not one to avoid their direct questions, no matter how painful they were. His hesitation was observed carefully by his two new friends as they waited for his response.

* * *

Two Force users sat in physical silence. Their minds, however, were anything but silent.

The older Jedi was focused on the past—on mistakes, on tragedies...

The other...was focused on the present.

He was thinking about his son—it was too painful for him to think of his daughter, so it was only thoughts of the boy that filled his mind.

His son was slowly changing for the better. He wanted to be there for the boy, but it was not the time or place for that yet. His son needed to spend time with other males his age, and Anakin was glad that he was getting the opportunity to do so. The boy needed the chance to feel young and carefree...He _needed_ time with others.

Luke, whose harsh life had caused him to mature too quickly, might have always subconsciously leaned toward loner tendencies, but Anakin knew the boy was destined to make connections with others. There was just something about him that radiated a need for companionship.

Anakin lightly clenched his fists, berating himself for all his failures. Because he had been pushing everyone away—Obi-Wan, the Jedi, Padmé, even his son—because of his choices, Luke had not been given the chance at a normal human life till now. Anakin wanted desperately to correct his wrongs and help his son.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure he knew how. He wanted to—he _needed_ to—but actually doing it...

He sighed, running a hand on the coarse material of his sleeve.

He had been fitted for a new set of armor. The black suit had been fear-instilling…He was certain that was what the Emperor had intended. In his grief over Padmé, he had never really questioned its dark appearance until he had worn it so long it had become a part of him. Now, however, he didn't need the helmet, though the suit had served other functions that he still required.

His new suit was fashioned in the way of Jedi apparel, having been designed to look like a Jedi's off-white tunic. His outfit was completed by light-colored trousers and a light gray robe. He didn't want to wear black any longer, but he felt uncomfortable at the idea of appearing as a traditional Jedi with an earth-colored robe. He didn't think he had completed the transformation from Sith to Jedi yet—he was still making that journey and might never reach the end of it. The appearance of his uncovered head still inspired discomfort—while he had begun (against all his hopes and expectations) growing a thin layer of hair, his scarred head remained easily visible, and his skin was pasty white from lack of exposure to light. He still looked like a monster out of legend, and though he no longer went by his Sith name, he felt it would be a while before people could truly accept him because of his monstrous past...It would certainly be a while before Anakin could accept himself.

That was, if he ever could. Doubts reverberated through his head every day, and perhaps they always would. He couldn't change the past, no matter how much he wanted to.

He had been spending a lot of time with Obi-Wan recently. They meditated, sometimes for hours on end, and Obi-Wan had even taught Anakin some advanced healing techniques. Still, Anakin suspected he would never be completely rid of his suit. But perhaps that was best. It would serve as a reminder of the past, of what had happened with Obi-Wan...

Anakin looked over at the Jedi. The gray-haired man sat with his eyes closed and his fists gently clenched. Anakin's heart wrenched at the sight. Both he and Obi-Wan were caught in an agony which tore at their souls, tangling their thoughts, obscuring their dreams...It was a web of pain and memories and regrets, and it felt as if it were inescapable.

Anakin took in a choked breath, trying to push through the pain. "I am…sorry."

It was finally out.

For days, the apology had been in the air—almost tangible, completely understood, and yet desperately needing to be voiced. Finally, it had been, and Anakin was glad for it, though he felt no better. He still hurt just as much. He was still filled with tremendous anger over his past. Words could not soothe him—he wasn't sure if anything could.

"No," the older man replied softly, shaking his head. "_I_ am sorry." He opened his eyes. Anakin could see the tears shining in them. "I failed you and your daughter."

"No," Anakin interjected gently. "You did not fail Leia. She has grown up to be a wonderful young woman." _Like Padmé_, he thought with a pang of regret. _Oh, Padmé..._

"I _did_ fail her." Obi-Wan's voice was serious and firm, and his gaze, though watery, was strong. "She has such anger in her. Anakin, I worried so much about you and Luke that I was unable to guide her as I should have."

Quietness briefly settled upon the room before Anakin finally pushed through it.

"If that is so," he said slowly, "then we have both failed her. But it is never too late to turn away from anger." He _had_ to believe that—it was all he had to hold on to...

He hesitated before speaking his next words, which somehow cost him something, though he wasn't quite sure what or why. "You needn't worry about me and Luke any longer. You can concentrate on Leia—you can teach her."

Obi-Wan paused for a few moments, seriously considering the chance to right his wrongs with Leia—a chance Anakin knew he had desperately desired—but he finally shook his head. "No, we are both still healing, my friend. I can be a teacher to no one...But _I_ do not have to be Leia's teacher."

Anakin furrowed his brow, looking puzzled. "If not you, then...who—"

"Master Yoda can teach her."

The younger man gave his former master a look of surprise. "Master Yoda is still alive?"

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. "Yes, he is. His years of meditation have served him better than mine have, and I have hope that he can succeed where I failed...I think he should train Leia."

"That would be best," Anakin agreed. The old Jedi Master was wise—Anakin suspected he had known that the supposed Chosen One was to fall. He had certainly feared it.

"Perhaps," the Jedi began sadly and pensively, "if Yoda had trained you instead of me..."

"Obi-Wan," Anakin said firmly, "it would not have changed anything...Some people are destined to fall so that they can be lifted up." But the words were filled with a hollowness Anakin could not mask—while he had not been ready to be a Padawan, neither had Obi-Wan been ready to be a teacher. Destiny had thrust them into roles they were not prepared for. Their master/Padawan relationship had begun with the discordant note of Qui-Gon's death, and Palpatine had fed Anakin's negative emotions. Doom had hung over everything. It was only now that they were able to chase away some of its tall shadows.

The Jedi Master gave him a sorrowful smile. "We should bring Luke with us. Perhaps he can be trained as well."

* * *

"He _wants_ to—to be on our side," the former Tusken told Wedge and Biggs slowly. "He isn't against us, and I do not believe he will continue to kill people...But I think he needs some time before he will truly be on our side." He paused, mulling over the words he had chosen that referred to himself: "our side" and "us." Did _he_ really have a side? When had he started thinking of himself as a member of the Alliance? He lifted his head, giving both his companions a look that seemed almost pleadingly eager. "You do not need to fear him."

* * *

"I _do_ want my children to be trained, Obi-Wan," Anakin began hesitantly. "But I fear—surely you do not believe that—that they will turn out like—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan cut in gently as he stood up and walked toward the door. "For now, do not concentrate on the past. Do not concentrate on the future. Think of what is best for the present...The children of the Chosen One cannot avoid the Force any more than the Chosen One can."

Anakin got to his feet slowly, and his thoughtful expression caused Obi-Wan to frown. The older Jedi queried, "What is it, Anakin?"

"Obi-Wan...Do you believe that the Chosen One was destined to fall?"

"It does not matter," Obi-Wan said dismissively. "The Chosen One is returning to us." He smiled and squeezed Anakin's shoulder gently. "Let's go find Luke."

* * *

Wedge could see the supplication and honesty in Luke's clear blue eyes, and he smiled, clapping a reassuring hand on Luke's shoulder. "We believe you, Luke." He didn't think he would ever get used to the idea of Darth Vader's being one of the good guys, but he trusted Luke's judgment. "We just wanted to make sure we wouldn't be finding any dead bodies lying about."

Luke hesitated, as if unsure whether Wedge were joking or not, but a glance at the expressions on the faces of his friends clued him in, and he grinned slowly back at them. Tentatively, he ventured, "Well, the only dead bodies they will find around here...will be yours."

Wedge tilted his head suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"

"Because eventually...you will die from awe at my piloting skills."

Biggs let out a bark of laughter and then waggled a finger in the air. "You got lucky this time, kid." He reached out to ruffle Luke's hair, but his hand was swatted playfully away. Biggs and Wedge had made it their mission these past few days (had it only been that long? it felt as if they had all known each other for years!) to get their newfound friend more accustomed to human touch and jesting, and it looked as if their attempts hadn't been in vain. "You won't be so lucky next time," Biggs reassured Luke.

"Perhaps," the former Tusken said, belatedly shrugging a second after his statement.

"When did you get so cocky, Luke?" Biggs asked in good humor.

"I learned from the best," the young man said simply. His face broke out into a grin at the sour look on Biggs' face.

Wedge laughed out loud.

* * *

Anakin paused. His son was sitting in the mess hall with two Rebel pilots—Darklighter and Antilles, if he remembered right. They all seemed happy, but after their gazes were drawn to his, somberness fell over them. He couldn't help but freeze, pained. Whenever Rebels recognized him, he could sense their fear, anger, suspicion, distrust...He knew that they had no reason to trust him, that they had every reason to fear him—stang, _he_ often feared himself—but he still wished—

He shook his head in self-deprecation. How could he have ever expected others to simply accept him? The Rebel Alliance leaders didn't know what to do with him, so how could the average Rebel know how to act or feel around him? _Why am I even here?_ he wondered bitterly.

Anakin nearly walked away from the mess hall right then. He would have probably gone and blasted off-planet had Obi-Wan not put a gentle hand on his elbow and guided him forward. "Peace," Obi-Wan whispered. _Do not fear_, he sent through the Force to the anxious Anakin.

A wild look flared up in Anakin's eyes, like that of a frightened bantha, but he forced himself to be calm and follow his mentor to the table. The fear he was facing was related to his actions—and he had to confront it. He needed to find peace.

When they were a few feet away from the three young men, Obi-Wan offered them a kind smile and said, "Greetings."

He received mumbled hellos from Darklighter and Antilles. Luke offered him a hand signal, not seeming to realize that the movement was of Tusken origin.

"We are going to see an old friend," Obi-Wan said, not wasting time with small talk, "and he lives on another planet. We intend to take Leia with us, and we would like you to come as well, Luke."

* * *

Chinnatah—for that was what he had privately gone back to thinking of himself as, at least until he figured out who he truly was—looked uneasily at Obi-Wan and his father. As he had grown more comfortable with the two pilots sitting by him, he had become less comfortable with the idea of authority figures. He had been driven to unite with Obi-Wan and his father because they had shared a common goal, but now the Emperor was dead. He knew the two Force users were not his enemies, and he didn't want them to be anyone _else's_ enemies, but he suspected their goals differed now. They probably wanted to talk with him more about the Force, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to learn anything else about that strange energy field. He looked down at his new mechanical hand, forming a fist with it. The Force's lessons were too painful. How could he submit himself to any more of them?

Obi-Wan must have sensed his concern, for he spoke carefully. "Our old friend is a Jedi Master, but if you are not ready to be trained, he will not force you to learn."

Chinnatah studied the table in front of him, temporarily distracted by it. He was still intrigued by the idea of tables. With a table and a chair, it was easy to clean a blaster or eat a meal. A hand could be rested on a table, or a head could be placed on a table's smooth surface...It was so simple, so helpful, so easy to comprehend...It wasn't like the Force at all.

Pensively, he rubbed a finger on the table's edge. He wouldn't always be able to avoid the complex for the simple, and there were no straight paths in life. Certainly not in his.

He took in a deep breath. Only a coward wouldn't face his fears...And he wasn't a coward, no matter what Mrekln had preferred to believe.

He lifted his head resolutely. "I will go with you."

Wedge and Biggs stood up. Chinnatah could sense their uneasiness and sadness, and he was not surprised when Wedge coughed and said, "Well, we'll miss you, Luke, but hopefully we'll see you again soon."

"Bye, Luke," Biggs offered simply.

The two pilots disappeared from the mess hall, looking to Chinnatah like womp rats fleeing from a krayt dragon. His heart heavy, he moved his gaze to the two older men.

"Let's go find Leia," Obi-Wan said gently.


	2. Searching

The door to Leia's quarters was shut.

Most people who passed by would think nothing of what lay behind the closed door. A more inquisitive person might perhaps pause and wonder at the frustrated noises coming from inside. A Force user didn't even _need_ to listen to know of the anger found on the other side of the door—Leia was broadcasting her annoyance through the Force so strongly that any Force sensitive in a five mile radius could feel it.

Staring at the door, Chinnatah guessed his sister had been in another fight with Han. Was this odd cycle of anger and forgiveness some strange human mating ritual? He made a mental note to ask Opakwa about it later.

He glanced at his father and Obi-Wan briefly, wondering what their thoughts were. Leia soon seemed to sense their presences, as she put up a barrier to block some of her anger. However, Chinnatah didn't think his two companions were fooled by the effort any more than he was.

At last, the young brunette woman opened the door and gazed out questioningly. "Yes?" Her hair—which was on top of her head in a bun—wasn't nearly as immaculate as usual, looking instead as if it had been picked at several times by an annoyed hand.

"We were hoping to have a word with you," Obi-Wan said quietly with a slight gesture of his hand.

Her frustration made a brief crack in her peaceful facade, but then calm spread back over her face and covered up all visible signs of frustration. "Come in," she invited with false warmth, stepping aside.

Chinnatah hesitated before finally moving forward into the small room. He was the first one through the door, and he soon found himself pausing to look at a colorful picture on the wall next to the bed. He was unsure why, but the sight had a calming effect on him.

"That's an Alderaanian field painted by an artist I once knew," Leia told him in a low voice. "One day, I'll have to show you around Alderaan...It's like nothing you've ever seen."

Chinnatah didn't reply; he just continued gazing at the painting. So, this was Alderaan...It was nothing like Tatooine or Coruscant—instead, it reminded him a little of Yavin IV. He reconsidered the thought. Actually, Alderaan looked as if it might be a little more peaceful than Yavin—there were so many different creatures on Yavin that at times it felt nearly as busy as Coruscant. Well, Chinnatah amended to himself, maybe not _quite _as busy as Coruscant...

"Leia, you know that you are not yet a Jedi Knight," Obi-Wan began slowly, taking Chinnatah's attention away from the painting.

"Yes, I know," Leia replied, sounding impatient as she flopped down onto her bed. She crossed her arms with an expression of annoyance and looked up at the Jedi Master, trying to calm herself before allowing herself to speak again. "Obi-Wan, what is this about?"

He inclined his head. "I would like for you to spend some time with Master Yoda."

"Who?" the woman queried blankly.

"Yoda is a Jedi Master who is living on Dagobah—"

"You can't expect me to leave right now, Obi-Wan," Leia interrupted, standing up, dismissing his idea immediately. "More planetary representatives arrive by the day, and—"

Obi-Wan interrupted, "Bail and the other Alliance leaders can handle them, Leia."

The princess shook her head adamantly. "I need to be here. I need to help—"

"You _need_ to learn to control your anger," Obi-Wan interrupted firmly. "Being around diplomats all day will not help you in that area." The humor in his statement was not matched by his expression, which was utterly serious.

Protests prepared themselves to launch from Leia's lips, but the determination she saw in Obi-Wan's eyes surprisingly surpassed her own. She could see he was prepared to do anything to get her to go—except for perhaps dragging her kicking and screaming to a ship. Jedi were too dignified for that sort of thing. The mental image nearly brought a smile to her face, but the almost-smile was quashed by the renewed thought of leaving the planet.

She sighed and pursed her lips. "Have you talked to my father?"

"No," Obi-Wan replied, "but I am sure he will agree with me."

Leia surreptitiously studied Anakin. The pale-skinned man seemed resigned yet...apprehensive. That did it for her. She steeled her resolve. If he were facing personal demons on account of this meeting—for she somehow knew Obi-Wan wanted all the people crowding in her room to go to Dagobah—then she wouldn't show weakness by refusing to go herself.

"If it is all right with my father, I'll come," Leia said grudgingly. It wasn't as if she really had a choice in the matter anyway.

* * *

After Obi-Wan had calmly and briefly presented his well-thought-out proposal for Leia's departure, Bail exhaled in surrender. He'd been defeated before even having the chance to ready an argument. "You're right, of course."

Anakin could see the man's great reluctance even without touching the Force. He certainly couldn't condemn Bail for it. There was no reason to expect for him to be ecstatic about the idea of his adopted daughter traveling about the galaxy with her formerly murderous father.

He winced at the thought. Brushing it away from his mind, he said quietly, "She will be safe." He met Bail Organa's gaze with his own.

Their eyes were locked for a few moments before Bail finally looked away. After he did, he inquired of Obi-Wan in a sad voice, "How long will you be gone?"

"I do not know, Bail," the Jedi replied with a slight shrug. "The Force surpasses rather than follows the flow of time. I will make no promises."

Bail let out an unexpected bark of laughter, his eyes glimmering with humor. "Never expect a straight answer out of a Jedi."

* * *

Anakin had been walking aimlessly down Massassi corridors for nearly ten minutes. He was supposed to meet with his children and Obi-Wan in an hour, so he was simply wandering around with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Suddenly, his knees bumped against something hard and loud.

Blinking in confusion, he looked down. A torrent of beeps from a very familiar astromech droid greeted him.

Anakin's face lit up with a smile before a strong feeling of guilt slammed into him. He had been avoiding the little droid, and he suspected Artoo was well aware of that fact. He felt conflicted—he enjoyed seeing the astromech unit, but that very machine knew his story almost as well as he did. Artoo had been with him in the Battle of Naboo and the Battle of Coruscant…He had been present on both the best day of Anakin's life—his wedding to Padmé—and the worst day of his life—the incident on Mustafar.

Anakin didn't know what to say to the droid...How could he talk about anything that had happened since he'd last truly talked with Artoo? That time was filled with death, with hatred, with anger, and with sorrow. Even now, it was hard to look past those things he had lived with for so long...He felt as if he were still surrounded by them, as if they were still choking him with their dark hands and he could only weakly pull at them with his own feeble fingers.

"Artoo—" he tentatively began, not quite certain what to say.

The astromech whistled gently, telling Anakin matter-of-factly that he understood everything and that Anakin didn't need to give him a long explanation. He was back, and that was what mattered.

Anakin stared at the droid for a few seconds, before whispering, "Thanks, Artoo." He was touched by the droid's understanding. He should've known Artoo wouldn't hold a grudge against him—the droid remembered his more innocent days along with the darker times…They had been good companions once.

Anakin tried to smile as he pushed past the pain brought on by those good memories. "I see you've been taking care of Threepio."

The R2 unit blatted something sarcastic.

"Well, even if he _is_ annoying, thank you...You need to continue taking care of him. Soon, I will be going off-planet to visit Master Yoda."

Artoo paused for a brief moment before whistling insistently.

"No, you should stay here with Threepio."

The droid's dome twisted back and forth in a negative fashion. He wanted to go, and Threepio could come, too.

"Artoo, I don't think—"

The droid moved forward with his arc welder held out threateningly. He _would_ use it if necessary, he told his former master in no uncertain terms.

Anakin couldn't help but chuckle and hold his hands up in surrender to the droid who thought he could take on the former Darth Vader and survive. How he missed that droid's spirit!

"All right, Artoo. I do not mind if you and Threepio come."

Artoo-Detoo beeped in satisfaction and rotated his dome.

* * *

Chinnatah was sitting on his bed in his quarters fumbling with a datapad he had taken apart. Meanwhile, Opakwa was rambling.

"—doesn't make sense. Master Sun, I do not know understand why you have been avoiding me. You may be progressing quickly in your language studies, but there is still much for you to l—"

"Will you...come with me to Dagobah?" Chinnatah interrupted. He had wondered if the droid's string of words would stop, but they hadn't yet, and seeing as they probably wouldn't ever cease without intervention, he'd thought it incumbent on himself to intervene before Opakwa's circuits overloaded. It was going to happen one of these days—he just knew it.

Opakwa looked somewhat taken aback at the question. "Excuse me, Master Sun?"

Chinnatah knew Opakwa had heard him. The droid was programmed to act like a human, though, and humans were often strange in their conversational habits, hence Opakwa's pointless query. "We're going to Dagobah...Will you come, too?"

"Why, I suppose I will, Master Sun," the mechanical being said, sounding both surprised and pleased. "Thank you for asking me."

Chinnatah gave him a small smile. Strange though it was, he felt attached to the protocol droid. Maybe it was because the droid would always remain constant—annoyingly talkative, perhaps, but constant...The thought was a strange source of comfort that he pulled to himself. As full of changes as his life was, there wasn't much that could comfort him, and it was surprising that the presence of a machine could do it.

A new thought occurred to him, and he said hesitantly, "Opakwa?"

"Yes, Master Sun?" the droid queried. His voice sounded weary—while he was somewhat resigned to the nickname Chinnatah had given him, he still did not like it for obvious reasons. The Jawaese term for "spare parts" wasn't exactly a sought-after droid nickname.

"I was wondering about human mating rituals..."

Opakwa tilted his head, obviously glad to be of service. "What is it you wish to know, Master Sun?"

"Do humans have—" Chinnatah paused to search for the word, and then he gave up and ventured, "people to decide who they are...to mate with?"

Fortunately, the droid seemed to know what he meant. "On some planets, they do use matchmakers to set up marriages, particularly in royal families, but humans usually prefer to choose who they will marry."

Chinnatah nodded, but he didn't really understand. What exactly did it mean to marry—was it like Ghorfa bonding ceremonies? Somehow, he didn't think Opakwa would have all the answers about human mating rituals. The droid knew a lot, but when it came to human emotions, the droid wasn't the best source.

Still, Opakwa knew more than _he_ did, so he pushed forward a little more. "Do humans talk to each other about mating?"

The droid gave a small shrug. "Some humans will talk about it frequently; other humans are embarrassed by the mere mention of it. However, it is certainly discussed more frequently among humans than Tusken Raiders."

Chinnatah looked at Opakwa pensively for a moment before telling him, "I will return soon." He would ask his father a few questions.

* * *

Anakin was talking to Artoo when Luke walked up. The former Sith Lord turned to look at his son, who was smiling down at the R2 unit.

"Luke," Anakin said, lowering his head in greeting. "It will still be a few minutes before we leave."

The boy nodded. "I know. I wanted to ask you something." He paused for several seconds to formulate his question. "When...when a male and a female human want to mate, do they...get angry at each other?"

"W-what?" Anakin sputtered, taken aback on multiple levels. What in the blazes was Luke talking about?

"Han and Leia fight a lot," the young man noted seriously, seeing his father's confusion, "but they seem to be...attracted to each other...Since humans don't usually use matchmakers, wouldn't it be easier for them to just...marry and mate?"

"With humans, it is not quite so simple..." Anakin paused. The words he was searching for were eluding him...How in the krethin' galaxy was he supposed to give an explanation of human romantic relations on the spot? Was fatherhood filled with moments like this, moments of shock and unease? He felt a pang of anger at himself. He would never know.

He took in a deep breath as he tried to recall his Tusken Raider history...

"Marriage is binding," he told his son finally, "like the Tusken Raider bonding ceremonies you are familiar with...We—humans—are allowed to choose who to marry, but that decision is usually made for life. Often, humans fight with those they care for because they are the ones who can upset them most...Humans in romantic situations are faced with a difficult decision—can their love triumph over all the troubles before them?"

Luke's face indicated he wanted to ask something else, but he seemed to change questions, asking simply, "Can Opakwa come to Dagobah?"

Anakin smiled. "I intend to take Threepio and Artoo, so I am certain one more droid will not hurt."

* * *

Apparently, Han didn't agree with Anakin. Taking one droid was painful enough—taking three was the equivalent of having a severed leg reattached without pain-suppressing meds. Loudly, he told everyone just what he thought of the idea. Quietly, Leia gave him a glare that would have turned Hoth into Tatooine. Immediately, Han lowered his voice and grumbled to himself about droids and women and the audacity of passengers who thought they could bring either one on board his ship.

Having to deal with four men, a Wookiee, and three droids wasn't exactly a picnic for Leia either. But she was willing and able to take care of herself, even if it meant taking brief breaks in her cabin periodically to get away from all the testosterone, fur, and mechanical voices.

Needless to say, everyone was relieved when the _Millennium Falcon_ reentered normal space and Dagobah hovered ahead in space. Minutes later, however, they were experiencing enough turbulence to make a priest swear.

"Oh, my!" Threepio exclaimed, flailing his arms about. Artoo beeped a few choice words that soon brought on a scolding from Threepio. "Artoo, watch your language!"

"What's happening?" Leia exclaimed, ignoring the droids. She prayed inwardly that her safety belt would hold; then she clutched it to herself, trying to make herself feel even the slightest bit more secure.

Han didn't reply—he simply muttered an expletive beneath his breath that made even Chewie tilt his head in surprise.

"We should remain calm," Obi-Wan advised, unfazed by the rocking of the ship. To the Force users, he instructed, "Reach out to the Force."

"You and your hokey religion," Han muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. His hands were busy flying over the console in front of him in a desperate attempt to land his ship in one piece.

Anakin frowned, looking as if he had a question poised on his lips, but he didn't voice it, instead closing his eyes and simply accepting what his former Jedi Master had said.

Luke and Leia soon followed, shutting their eyes to concentrate on the Force.

The Force pulsed around Dagobah, calling out to them like a yuneukian ray bird looking for a mate. It sang a song of the present, past, and future, a song of love and hate, joy and sorrow, hope and despair...Leia felt its song fill her, and she guided it toward the ship, molding it into a smooth flight for the _Falcon_ with the help of the other Force users in the cockpit.

* * *

When the ship finally touched ground, it did so in a way so gentle that Han couldn't believe his senses. "What in space just happened?" he gaped, staring out at the swampy Dagobah as if it were a mirage.

Obi-Wan gave the smuggler a knowing smile. "The Force is not just some hokey religion, Captain Solo...It is the very energy field that just saved your life."

Not willing to give in so easily, Han murmured something unintelligible and scanned the monitors in front of him repeatedly. "No, s'gotta be something else," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Peering over at the monitors, Leia noted, "There doesn't seem to be any signs of civilization, Obi-Wan...Do you know where Master Yoda is?"

Obi-Wan spread his hands. "We should split up into groups to look for him, each group taking a droid for navigational purposes...Leia, Luke, take Artoo and head south. If possible, return to the ship in five or six hours."

The two siblings looked at the Jedi Master and then at each other before reluctantly leaving. Artoo trailed behind them, whistling to himself.

Han began to step forward, but Obi-Wan made no move to leave. The smuggler raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you don't intend to go anywhere for a while?"

The Jedi hid a smile with his hand. "Perhaps it's because you're a rather perceptive man at times, Captain Solo."

* * *

They had been walking for a long time. Leia was tired of trudging through swampland, tired of being bitten by ravenous insects, and tired of looking for some Jedi Master who had probably died years ago out of sheer frustration at his residence of choice. When she was just about ready to turn around and call it quits, something inexplicable caused her to pause. Pensively, she murmured to her brother, "I feel something strange..."

He slowly nodded in agreement. "It feels like—"

"Feels like what?" a voice inquired from behind them.

Swiveling and bringing her lightsaber to bear, Leia finished, "—like we're being watched."

Luke, who had also twisted around with weapon up, slowly lowered the blaster Han had given him. He gazed curiously at the strange creature before them.

The being was small and green, with large ears protruding from its head, rags covering its body, and a seemingly harmless disposition radiating from its person. Its small limbs were held up in front of its face, as if to ward off an attack from them, and fearfully, it said, "Away put your weapons—I mean you no harm..."

Leia reluctantly extinguished her lightsaber, though she still held the handle up warily. After learning of the heritage behind the lightsaber, she had almost returned it to Obi-Wan with the instruction that it should be given back to its former owner. But then she had decided to keep it, not quite wanting to let it go for reasons not consciously known to her. Now, she was glad she had. There was something comforting about having a lightsaber.

"I am wondering," the creature continued timidly in his strange dialect, "why are you here?"

"We're looking for someone," Leia said warily. Artoo gave a muted beep, and she glanced briefly at him in curiosity.

The creature came closer and poked at the unsuspecting young woman's shoes with a stick. "Looking? Found someone, you have, I would say, hmm?" The being chuckled to himself in amusement.

Leia rolled her eyes. Great. Just what they needed—an ancient creature who had reverted back to childhood. "Yes, I suppose we have."

Luke smiled at the creature warmly. "Do you have a name?"

"Heh, everyone has a name, yes. This girl here," the stranger poked at Leia, "a name she has, hmm?"

"I'm Leia," the perturbed Alderaanian said, clipping her saber to her belt and giving her brother a look that said, _Don't encourage him._

"And what name have you?" the creature queried, tilting his head at Luke.

"I have a lot of names..." the former Tusken answered hesitantly.

"He's my brother, and he goes by 'Luke,'" Leia stated flatly. She didn't want to talk to this creature any more than she had to.

The alien turned to gaze at her. "So certain are you? Asked him his name, have you?"

"What?" Leia blinked in confusion, feeling an unexplainable sense of guilt. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps, on his name, he has not decided. Very important are names...Yes, very important!"

Whatever had made her feel guilty had passed, however, and all that remained was fatigue and frustration. She was tired of dealing with this stranger. "Look, we're low on time, and unless you know where the Jedi Master we're looking for is, then—"

"Oohhh, Jedi Master...Yoda. You seek Yoda!" the being exclaimed. His declaration was strangely earnest.

"You know Master Yoda?" Leia asked in surprise.

"Mmm. Take you to him, I will. Come, come!" the stranger began toddling off on his stick.

"But—" Leia tried to get his attention but then sighed as he ignored her. She looked at Luke. "We'll probably be a little late, but I guess we don't have much of a choice."

Her brother nodded in acknowledgment and moved to follow the little green being, Artoo humming at his heels in amusement.


	3. Parting

"I'm sure your cooking is wonderful, but can't we see Yoda right now?" Leia sighed, not even bothering to hide her impatience. If the stranger's hut weren't so blasted small, she would be pacing. As it was, she had to be very careful not to hit her head on the ceiling.

The alien either ignored her annoyance or somehow failed to notice it. "Patience! For the Jedi, it is time to eat as well."

"We have friends waiting for us." The volume of Leia's voice elevated a few notches. "They're not going to like it if we just sit here and eat. We're supposed to be finding Master Yoda, so he can train me, and I can get back to—"

"Patience, patience," the creature chided. "Understand, they will, that eat you must." He chuckled to himself as he stirred some mysterious-looking liquid in an unsanitary-looking pot. Staring at it, Leia considered which would be worse—licking a nerf or taking a sip of whatever it was he was cooking. She suspected the latter would.

"Is Yoda very far away?" Luke inquired. Leia thought he seemed to be trying to smooth any ruffled feathers the creature might have, though frankly she thought the alien needed a little ruffling.

"Not far," the being reassured him. "Yoda not far. Patience. Be with him soon, you will."

"_How_ soon?" Leia pried.

"Soon," the creature said shortly. He gazed at her with a strange seriousness. "Why wish you become Jedi?"

Leia resisted the urge to flail her arms about. Instead, she liberally sprinkled her voice with frustration. "I'm here because of Obi-Wan. Truthfully, I'm more interested in galactic politics than the Force...I can't believe I let him talk me into this—it's a huge waste of time. I could be helping the Alliance right now with negotiations, not sitting here listening to—to—" She exhaled, turning her head away and shaking it in resignation. "Oh, forget it."

The creature also turned away, speaking in an irritated tone she hadn't known he was capable of producing. "I cannot teach her. Without patience, she is."

Leia's brow was furrowed in confusion for a few seconds, but then her face lit up in sudden guilty comprehension. "Yoda?"

A voice she didn't recognize talked gently back to the green creature. "She is here to learn from you."

"Hmm." Yoda didn't sound very convinced. "Much anger in her, like her father."

"She needs to learn to let go of her anger," the voice replied, "and she needs you to teach it to her."

Yoda shook his head. "Too attached to her anger, she is. She is not ready to learn from me."

Luke spoke up hesitantly. "How can she...release her anger when she doesn't know how?"

The little green being turned to him, giving him a look Leia didn't understand. "For eight hundred years have I trained Jedi, and much have I learned. Know this, I do, that fear and anger are powerful motivators...Powerful motivators..." He clenched his right hand and looked at it pensively. "To handle them properly requires the deepest commitment, the most serious mind...One who lacks this, I cannot train."

Leia's nostrils flared—she didn't like the way Yoda was talking about her. She started to stand up indignantly before remembering the low ceiling and thinking better of it. "I can be committed," she insisted. "I can learn whatever you have to teach me."

Yoda stared at her for a moment, and she shivered, unable to shake the feeling that he was looking into her soul.

The small Jedi Master finally looked away to the invisible being, asking him, "Will she finish what she begins?"

"I will not fail you," Leia said firmly, answering before the disembodied voice could. "Master Yoda, I am not afraid."

The small Jedi Master turned his bulbous eyes to her, bringing his centuries of knowledge to bear on her with that single chilling gaze. "You will be. You...will be."

* * *

In the _Falcon_, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been sitting with his eyes closed for a long time, and it was making Han—who had been moving back and forth making minor repairs to his ship—nervous. When the Jedi finally opened his eyes, Han felt as if a weight had been lifted off him. Then he felt annoyed at his relief and furrowed his brow briefly.

"It's about time you woke up, old man," he grunted, wiping his hands on a rag as he tried not to let his perturbation show. "I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive."

The Jedi smiled at him, causing him to shift uneasily. This old man was too pacific for Han's tastes. It made him wonder about the Jedi's motives. What was going on in that old fossil's head, anyway?

"It is time for us to go," Obi-Wan said calmly. "Grab as many supplies as you can—survival tents, food, medical supplies…"

"What are we doing, camping?" Han snorted. Tatooine would freeze over before he would camp in the muck that was called Dagobah.

"Something like that," Obi-Wan answered with a glint of a challenge in his eye which didn't pass by unnoticed by the smuggler. The Jedi turned to Threepio, who was standing before him looking somewhat lost. "Go tell Opakwa the two of you need to stay here and watch the ship. The swamp is too moist for protocol droids such as yourselves."

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan..." the protocol droid said subserviently. He hesitated for a moment before querying, "Will Artoo be going with you?"

"Yes, he is accustomed to unusual terrain...And he has met Master Yoda before." Obi-Wan smiled. "So have you, though you do not remember."

"I see, sir," Threepio said, sounding puzzled.

Han—who had been interested in the conversation despite himself—brushed brusquely past the golden droid to look for supplies. He was growing soft, and he didn't like it.

* * *

As they drew nearer and nearer to Yoda, Anakin became conscious of the beating of his heart. It pounded against his chest mercilessly, reminding him of his fear and his shame. Meeting with Obi-Wan had been bad enough, but meeting with Yoda...

The Jedi Master had never wanted him trained. Stars, the alien had _seen_ the darkness in his future. When he was younger, Anakin hadn't understood Yoda's reluctance, had been annoyed at the Jedi's lack of faith in him…And when he had killed the younglings, he had remembered Yoda's easily apparent love for them, and he had felt the pangs of jealousy. Yoda had never loved him like that. With his envy and his fear, he had wrought death upon the children.

Their screams had been both a knife and a panacea. He had hated them and himself, but he had felt relief every time one of them escaped into the Force—each time it happened, it had meant one less Jedi to earn what he could not: the love and respect of the Jedi Council.

His jealousy had ebbed after his massive slaughter of younglings, but his fears for his soul and his wife had increased. He had begun to hate the Jedi even more. He had been sure they could not help him—they could not save Padmé from the fate looming over her...He had been certain only Darth Sidious could help him.

_I was wrong_, he thought painfully.

By rejecting a possible future, he had caused it to be. By rejecting the Jedi, he had rejected his salvation.

And now that the possibility for salvation was finally in front of him again, he felt ashamed. What he had once fought against he was now grasping for...But it was slipping through his fingers. What had come to many others so easily was phenomenally difficult for him. He was _the Chosen One—_he had a higher midi-chlorian count than Master Yoda! Why must it be so hard for him?

He felt his anger flare, but he pushed it away in embarrassment when he felt Obi-Wan's attention turn toward him.

_Concentrate on your surroundings,_ he reprimanded himself. But it was pointless trying. His thoughts were too scattered for him to focus.

When at last they were so close to Yoda that it felt as if his veins were about to jump out of his skin, Anakin stopped moving. At Obi-Wan's curious look, he said quietly, "Go ahead. I need..." But he didn't know what he needed, and he couldn't finish the thought.

Obi-Wan, however, seemed to understand, for he nodded and continued walking. Chewie and Han didn't seem too concerned at his staying briefly behind—Anakin suspected they were glad to get away from the monstrous Darth Vader—and kept moving.

Anakin took in a deep breath, lowering himself onto a moss-covered fallen tree. His heart kept pounding.

* * *

When more of their party arrived at Yoda's hut, Leia felt relieved. Her relief was short-lived, however, as she realized they would all need to stand outside in the muck to talk. Of course one of the greatest living Jedi Masters in the galaxy would choose a swamp for his home. A place with proper sanitation facilities would be too much to ask for.

Yoda was already waiting outside with Artoo to greet the newcomers, so Leia turned to her brother, who looked even more cramped in the hut than she did, and asked, "How about we go outside, too?"

He nodded and followed her out. They were just in time to hear some of Han's complaining.

"Ah, droyk," Han was muttering to himself. "Blasted mud's everywhere."

Chewie growled in agreement. It was obvious he believed fur and mud made a bad combination.

"Having problems, Captain Solo?" Leia asked smoothly, fighting to keep a grin off her face. She had somehow managed to get very little mud on her, even though she had been tramping through the swamp for quite a while earlier.

The smuggler gave her an annoyed look. "Yes, actually, Your Worship, I'm having a problem with the slimehole you had to drag me to."

"This slimehole's in a lot better condition than your ship," Leia retorted.

"Hey!" Han exclaimed, giving her a hurt look. "I'll have you know my ship can make point-five past lightspeed!"

"Well, what do you know? Apparently something exists that can rival how fast you shoot your mouth off."

Han didn't even give her a reply. He simply glared at her.

Leia, feeling as if she had met with victory, turned to look around. She frowned when she noticed that her fa—that Anak—that _Vader_ was missing. "Where's...?" she trailed off. She didn't insert a name—she still wasn't sure what to call the man.

Obi-Wan finished whatever he was saying to Yoda before he responded to her question. "Anakin will be coming shortly." He turned to look at Yoda expectantly.

The small Jedi Master observed his small hands and cane for a moment before looking up in determination. "Go to him, I will."

Obi-Wan nodded, but Leia could see he felt worried.

* * *

Anakin sensed Yoda walking toward him, but he didn't look up. He didn't think he could talk, much less move. It was hard enough to keep breathing.

"Anakin," the Jedi Master said, speaking in a voice that was much kinder than Anakin had expected. Gone was the sternness Anakin had bristled under, replaced by a tone that sounded almost like...fatherly kindness.

In surprise, Anakin looked up.

Yoda came over and sat down beside him, placing a gentle clawed hand on his back. "Sorry am I, Anakin."

"W-what?" Anakin stuttered. "What do you mean, Master Yoda?"

"Many mistakes have I made—"

"No, Master Yoda...You—you were right about me. I was never…fit…to be a Jedi." The words came out painfully, but Anakin believed them. The condition of his soul attested to their truth.

"Meditated much on this, have I…Often have I wondered, if balance to the Force the Chosen One was to bring, then why did the Chosen One fall?"

"Maybe I wasn't the Chosen One," Anakin said softly but with a strange, hopeful intensity. "Could—could Luke or Leia be the Chosen One instead?"

"No," the little Jedi Master shook his head. "The Chosen One, you were…A costly lesson for the Jedi, you did bring. Pains me, it does, to think of the arrogance shown by the Jedi…and by me." He looked up at Anakin, the weight of the past few decades on his shoulders. "Balance to the Force, you have brought. Few in number are the Jedi, and few in number are the Sith."

"But Master Yoda, aren't—"

"Rise again, the Sith will," Yoda cut him off. "Know this, I do. A constant battle with evil, the Jedi must fight…From within and without."

Anakin lowered his head, staring at the swampland below. It was a battle he knew well.

"Still angry, are you," Yoda stated softly. He sounded sad, and when Anakin looked up, he saw the emotion reflected in the smaller being's face. "Angry at the Jedi, you are, and at yourself."

Anakin didn't respond; they both knew it was true. His anger still lurked within him—it was a beast in the back of his mind waiting to jump forward and take control of him once again. He was trying to keep the beast at bay, but he was still too weak. It had gripped him with its claws for far too long. How could he be expected to escape from it permanently?

"Refrain from using the Force, you should."

Anakin turned his body toward Yoda in surprise. "What?" Unbidden, a shudder rippled through his body. He realized suddenly how dependent he had been on the Force for even the smallest of things. It felt as if Yoda were asking him to stop breathing.

"Your anger has tied you to the Force. A strong bond with the Dark Side, you have formed. Easier, it would be, if stopped using the Force temporarily, you did."

"I do not know if I can do that…" Anakin said hesitantly. He was constantly reaching out to the Force without realizing it—the Force had become ingrained in him…He had always surrounded himself in it, both consciously and unconsciously, and he couldn't simply quit touching it.

Yoda twirled his gimer stick in the ground, speaking in a quiet voice. "There are creatures that can push away the Force."

"Ysalamiri," Anakin whispered. During his time with Palpatine, he had made sure to avoid the disgusting furred lizards as much as possible. Being in the Forceless bubble they created was like having one of his senses stripped away from him, and he had always hated it. Their existence was something he would never forget about.

"Heard of them, have you?"

"The Emperor was fond of them," he said simply. The paranoid Palpatine had relied on a lot of different things to protect him from both real and imagined enemies.

The old Jedi Master gazed at him with his wise eyes. "Retrieve an ysalamir, you should. Much about the Force, you already know. But much about yourself, you do not know."

Anakin was quiet for a few minutes. His brow furrowed as he considered Yoda's words. Did he know himself? He knew of his fear, his anger, his love...But did he know how to control them? Did he know what exactly he wanted to do with himself? Did he know where exactly he went wrong all those years ago? Would he be able to stop himself from making such a big mistake again?

Finally, he heaved a sigh. "You are right, Master Yoda. I need to go to Myrkr." The wretched home of the ysalamiri. A place the Jedi had always avoided…and with good reason.

* * *

When Yoda returned with Anakin, Han and Leia immediately ceased their bickering. Luke and Obi-Wan—both of whom had been lost in thought—looked up, and Chewbacca whuffed a greeting.

Anakin cut to the chase and told them, "We have decided that I need to go to Myrkr." He seemed uncomfortable but resigned.

"Great. Escort duty again, huh?" Han groaned.

"Transporting passengers might not be as danger-filled an occupation as you're accustomed to, but it pays well," Leia reminded him dourly.

"Look, sister, I don't have to take any of your lip—" Han was cut off by Yoda, who seemed somewhat amused.

"Her lip, you do not have to take. Staying here, she is."

Leia furrowed her brow. "Why can't we all go to this Myrkr place? You could teach me on the way…"

The small Jedi Master shook his head. "On Dagobah, you must stay. Learn to control your anger, you must."

"But Yoda—" Leia protested.

"Leia," Obi-Wan said gently, "you need to stay here." With the Force, he told her gently, _You_ _cannot control your anger around Han Solo…Training with him near would be detrimental to your growth._

Leia bit her lip, about to protest once more, but she swallowed the words upon seeing Obi-Wan's serious expression. He was right, and she knew it. "All right."

Yoda, satisfied that his new pupil was going to stay on-planet, turned to look at Luke. "Stay, you can, as well."

The boy turned away to stare at the ground. Softly, he spoke. "I am not ready to become a Jedi."

Leia watched as Yoda nodded. That seemed to have been the answer he expected. "Time, you do need," the Jedi Master said thoughtfully, "but on your mind, keep the thought of training. It is not Leia but you who must create a new order of Jedi. If choose to follow a different path, you do, then little hope for the Jedi is left. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and I—we are of the old order. Flawed, it was. Try to create a new order, we can, but blinded to our flaws are we...Teach you what we can, we will. But the shaping of the new order belongs to you. Too dedicated to the political aspects of the Republic, Leia is. A leader of the people, she is to be."

"Master Yoda," Leia said hopefully, drawing the Jedi Master's attention to her, "if I am to be a leader rather than a Jedi, why do I need to learn the Jedi ways?"

"Dangerous, a half-trained Jedi is," Yoda said, a hint of caution in his serious voice. His tone lightened a bit, and he told her, "But even if that were not so, still trained you should be. From outside the Republic, many dangers were not sensed by the Jedi…Within and without, the Jedi should be. And help you as a leader, training will."

"It seems we have no choice," Luke noted quietly, a strange hint of bitterness in his demeanor.

"Wrong, you are." Yoda shook his head slowly. "Always a choice, there is. All must face a choice—whether to walk in the darkness, the light, or the twilight. From this choice, all stems. But beware the twilight, for often it leads to darkness…Know this, young Skywalker: if unsuited for being a Jedi, you think you are, then a Jedi you must not become. Reveal the answers to you, time will."

As Yoda turned away, Leia knew the conversation was over. Now they were left with only dizzying thoughts of the future.

After a few moments of silence, Obi-Wan began shuffling around in his pack, telling them, "Tonight, we will sleep here. Tomorrow, everyone but Leia and Yoda will go to Myrkr."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Han protested. "There's a perfectly good ship full of cabins that way." He pointed behind him with his thumb.

"You are welcome to sleep on your ship, Captain Solo," Obi-Wan replied with a hint of humor, "but the rest of us are sleeping here, away from the distractions of technology."

Artoo beeped, sounding offended.

"I was not including you, Artoo," Obi-Wan said with a smile. "You are always a help—never a distraction."

The droid gave a satisfied whistle. He moved forward to Yoda's hut, elevating himself to look in the window. He looked like a curious child peeking into a toystore, and Leia smiled.

Chewbacca had moved toward Yoda, and Leia turned in interest to watch them walk off a few yards away to talk. She frowned at Chewbacca's easygoing demeanor. The Wookiee didn't seem at all surprised by the Jedi Master's speech or appearance—instead, the two talked in the manner of comrades rejoined.

While watching them converse, Leia was briefly reminded of Winter, and she felt a brief pang of guilt. On Yavin IV, she had commed her friend to let her know about her Dagobah trip. Winter had wanted to go, but both of them had known that Winter, with her perfect memory, was needed at the Yavin IV talks. Leia could also have been of help at the talks, but her father could more than cover her…

And now, instead of planning the galaxy's future, she was going to be stuck on a slimy mudhole with a centuries-old Jedi Master while the Alliance talks were going on and the _Falcon_ was blasting off to adventure.

But...it wasn't all bad, Leia consoled herself. Han would be stuck on his precious ship with Threepio—she'd bet five credits the prissy droid wouldn't make it intact to Myrkr.

The thought made her smile. Yep, it wasn't all bad...


	4. Learning

He stared out the viewport, contemplating the mottled mosaic of stars shining before him. The universe was like a carefully planned work of art. If it had been infinite, physics dictated that the night sky would look like a solid bright mass....But the universe's beauty did not come from being a blob of matter; rather, it was an amalgamation of various precious objects meshed together in different ways according to the types of senses which viewed them. It formed a speckled picture of beauty—not a bright mass.

His second-in-command stood behind him, waiting for him to turn or speak. There was a hint of impatience in the man's demeanor, though his light and scattered fidgeting was not an indication of annoyance in having to wait but of a desire for action. None of the captain's previous commanders had been prone to remain in one position for an extended period of time. There was a tendency among members of the upper hierarchy of the Empire to constantly seek either action or pleasure; few spent any time in contemplation. It was one of the Empire's greatest weaknesses.

When at last he turned, he could see the flicker of relief pass across the captain's face. The man was loyal, but he had been enveloped in the ambulatory aura which had always surrounded his superiors. Still, given a little time, he knew his new flag captain would grow more confident and contemplative. He had been chosen for good reasons.

"We need to set course for Myrkr."

The captain's relief turned into confusion, and he shifted uneasily, briefly glancing at his superior's human bodyguard, who was standing quietly in the shadows. "Myrkr, sir?"

The leader stared at the captain for a few moments, weighing the man's worth one last time before concluding that he would indeed be an asset. Satisfied, he spoke. "I'm afraid we are going to have a few Jedi troubles soon, and I would like to be prepared."

He felt the captain's confusion increase, and he waited a few minutes before speaking again. The man would learn the value of patience.

He would see to that.

* * *

The night spent on Dagobah was mostly uneventful, though in the morning Han Solo swore he had been bitten by a snake. He didn't seem too keen to share the knowledge of where exactly this wound was, however, so he lost his sympathetic audience pretty quickly.

As the Myrkr group began preparing to leave, Chewbacca told Yoda that he would never want to live on Dagobah because of all the mud.

The small Jedi Master laughed in understanding. "No place for a Wookiee is Dagobah."

"Or for pampered smugglers," Leia muttered to herself.

Han, however, seemed to catch her utterance, as he gave her a dirty look.

"It was good to see you again, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said, lowering his head in farewell.

The green Jedi Master nodded back. "Here I will be, if help you need." He looked at Luke. "If ever training you require, willing to give it, I am."

The boy nodded, though he seemed a bit uneasy. He shifted the weight of the pack on his back and moved to pat Artoo's dome. The droid whistled a cheerful goodbye to Yoda, who poked at him teasingly with his gimer stick.

"I guess I'll see you, Princess," Han grunted. Judging by the twitch of his hand, he seemed to be resisting the urge to give a goodbye wave.

"Goodbye, Captain Solo," Leia said politely.

The smuggler seemed to have been expecting something more. He turned in disappointment but only walked a few more steps before—

"Han!"

He twisted his torso to look at her, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Leia bit her lip, reluctantly allowing her next few words to pass between her lips: "Be careful, okay?"

The pirate gave her a lopsided grin. "Hey, it's me!"

* * *

The temperamental _Falcon_ refused to take off immediately ("because of all the krethin' swamp water," the ship's owner claimed), so Han and Chewbacca were hard at work in making repairs. Luke and the droids went to the back of the ship, and Anakin and Obi-Wan sat down in the main hold. The two Jedi began speaking together, trying to get Anakin's mind off the Force.

Talking didn't help Anakin as much as he wished it would. Every now and then, he would subconsciously reach out to the Force, only to receive a gentle but knowing look from Obi-Wan which made him cease his attempt with no small amount of guilt.

It was difficult for him not to touch the Force. His conversation with Obi-Wan was igniting several emotions, and he was accustomed to reaching out to the mystical energy field for help in feeding his emotions. He had always taken comfort in that aspect of the Force.

After initially trying to refrain from using his Force powers, he had first been angry with Yoda for requesting such a drastic—if temporary—change to his lifestyle. Then he had realized that his anger was simply support for the Jedi Master's advice. His realization wasn't very constructive, however, as he soon found himself getting angry at his anger, which was a road he felt was rather pathetic for him to go down. Now, however, he had swept away his anger, and he was calming down.

"I was not ready for the trials," Obi-Wan said softly. "I thought I was—after all, I actually found myself reprimanding Qui-Gon at times...But I was a poor teacher. I was still mourning Qui-Gon's death—I was not even ready to be a full-fledged Jedi Knight. It was hard at times to control myself—"

"And then you had to try to control me," Anakin interjected, sighing bitterly. "Obi-Wan, the fault was all mine—"

"No," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head slowly, "the fault belonged to all the Jedi. Yoda was right in noting the flaws of the Jedi Order—the Jedi were blinded by their own power, too confident that their time-tested ways were right...But both Time and the Force are always changing—the Jedi should be no different."

Anakin could hear the pain in his former master's voice, and he knew that Obi-Wan's pain was no less than his own. They both needed to heal...And the journey toward wholeness was one they needed to take together.

* * *

"She is going to grab power," Garm Bel Iblis snapped. "I'm as fond of Mon as you are, Bail, but I can see it in her eyes. She's ambitious, and she thinks she's the only one who knows how to resurrect the Republic. Her heart's good, but her pride is dangerous. Always has been."

Bail Organa sighed. Mon and Garm were often at each other's throats, but the tension between them had been escalating since the Emperor's fall. Bail—who was forced to mediate their disputes, lest they do some kind of irreparable harm—was at his wit's end. He wracked his mind for some reply to Garm and smiled when a thought struck him out of the blue. "Garm, I have an idea."

"What?" the Corellian huffed, crossing his arms in barely-contained annoyance. Though he was shorter than his Alderaanian friend, Garm could be quite intimidating when angry.

Bail spoke carefully, holding his hands up every time Garm looked as if he were going to interrupt (which was often). "What if we suggest forming...a—Triad of elected officials—there could even be a check and balance system making sure all were equal in power...With all the planetary and system representatives here, as well as the Alliance's most prominent politicians, we could call a meeting to vote on who would make up the Triad. That way, even if Mon is elected, there will be two other people with equal power who can limit what she does."

The rebellious fire in Garm's eyes diminished as he considered what Bail had just said. He rubbed a hand over his facial hair thoughtfully, appearing to have calmed down. "You might have something there, Bail...I seem to recall learning in school about a planetary system with three branches in it whose political system had worked successfully for quite a long time—Bryze? No, Bryza? No..."

Bail frowned—that did ring a distant bell. Suddenly, he had it. "Bryznatz!"

"That's it!" Garm exclaimed, waggling a finger.

"Their branches were judicial..."

"...legislative..."

"...and executive!" Bail finished. "That's a great idea, Garm!" He smiled, noting the excitement evident in his friend's posture. "How about we read up on Bryznatz a little to expand our knowledge? Then we can go share our idea with Mon, hmm?"

"After you," Garm grinned, gesturing him forward. Both men were pleased, and Garm's earlier belligerent state of mind was forgotten.

* * *

Chinnatah was sitting on the bottom of one of the _Falcon_'s bunk beds. Opakwa was with him but remained quiet, somehow sensing his master's need for silence. Sometimes, the machine could be oddly perceptive.

Chinnatah pushed a hand down on the bed. He still marveled at the softness of human beds. Humans seemed to be obsessed with comfort and luxury; Tuskens were obsessed with survival. There was little room for luxury on Tatooine...

Now, however, survival wasn't really the issue for him. He could spill a drop of water on the floor without cursing his stupidity, and he could show an uncovered face without worrying about getting into a death match...He was protected and provided for by this group he had fallen in with—and they lacked the strict expectations that Tuskens always held...But while before he had been a nobody at the bottom of the Tusken hierarchy, now he found himself facing a future that could change the lives of others.

Oh, he didn't know much about the Jedi. They could touch the Force—he knew that. Their enemies were the Sith, which was what his father had been...And Yoda—who seemed to be at the top of this hierarchy—wanted to train him to head the Jedi. At least, that was what he had gathered...

But did he want that? Did he—could he—believe what they believed? He knew they all thought anger and fear were bad, just as Tuskens had believed humans and infirmities were bad...

Chinnatah had seen the destructive power of anger—Mrekln's anger had been life-threatening. Vader's anger had been as well. Anger was blinding, harmful...Chinnatah didn't think he could blame the Jedi for teaching caution in regard to anger.

But fear?

He didn't know how he felt about their approach to fear. Fear was instinctive, helpful—it was part of being alive and of surviving. All the creatures Chinnatah had seen had exhibited some kind of fear...Fear allowed beings to flee from danger.

Why did the Jedi discourage fear?

Making a Tusken handsignal which was roughly the equivalent of a human frown, Chinnatah slid off his bed, told Opakwa he'd be back later, and went searching for Obi-Wan or his father. He found both of them sitting near a small round table, talking. They looked up at his approach and smiled, though Chinnatah could sense their sadness through the Force.

"What is it, Luke?" Obi-Wan queried.

Chinnatah hadn't been expecting the somber mood which filled the air, so he pushed aside his former question, asking instead, "What is wrong?"

Anakin let loose a small bark of a laugh. "We're trying to heal...and failing miserably."

Obi-Wan smiled, a bit of amusement making its way into his bearing. "Now, Anakin, I would say we're making some progress."

"Perhaps," the other man whispered. The humor he had felt was gone as swiftly as it had come.

"Are you afraid?" Chinnatah asked. Somehow, he knew it was the question he needed to ask his father.

The two Jedi exchanged a glance that Chinnatah didn't understand, and there was a brief silence before Anakin finally spoke. "Yes."

Curious, Chinnatah moved forward a few steps, staring at his father intensely. "What are you afraid of?"

Anakin let loose a heavy sigh, breaking his eyes away from those of his son. "Myself."

Chinnatah waited a moment before speaking again, feeling as if a little time between questions was needed for his father's sake. "Why do the Jedi think it is wrong to fear?"

"The danger in fear is that it often leads to anger," Obi-Wan told him. "When you fear something that will happen, you grow angry at the cause of your fear...It has caused the downfall of many a Jedi."

"Including me," Anakin whispered hoarsely. "I feared Padmé's—your mother's—death—and I grew angry that I didn't know how to stop it...I killed—" But he couldn't finish his sentence.

"The Jedi try to warn against fear and anger, for both can lead to destruction," Obi-Wan said gently. His eyes were gazing seriously at Chinnatah.

"But can't fear grow out of—out of—"

"Love," Chinnatah's father finished for him, closing his eyes. "Yes, it can."

"The Jedi are warned away from attachments," Obi-Wan explained. "Attachments lead to fear of loss of those attachments."

Chinnatah shook his head, the situation seeming strange to him. "Are the Jedi not allowed to feel at all? What kind of life is that?" In the corner of his eye, he saw his father clench his fist.

"A life you must redefine," Obi-Wan said gently, "if you choose to become the head of the new Jedi Order." He shifted slightly in his seat. "I do not wish this pressure on anyone, but it exists nonetheless. We need someone to rebuild the order who is willing to listen to Jedi teachings but not be blinded by them, as we were."

Chinnatah gazed solemnly at the two Force users before him. Slowly, he sat down on the floor and looked up at them. His decision was not made, but he felt a strange thirst to learn more about these strange beings who pushed away certain emotions. "Tell me about the Jedi."

* * *

Leia's time on Dagobah was not relaxing, not even at the beginning. Almost immediately after the departure of the _Falcon_, she found herself panting, sweating profusely, running through the swampy terrain, and carrying a two-foot tall green Jedi Master on her back. That Jedi Master was even now spewing advice while acting as a stern cheerleader. If someone had told her a few months previously that she would find herself in such a situation, she would've called them crazy. As it was, she still wasn't sure that _she_ wasn't crazy.

"Yes, run, run! To the Force, you must reach! A Jedi's strength flows from the Force...But beware, you must, fear, anger, and aggression...To the Dark Side, they lead...Flow easily, they do...Quick to join you in a fight, they are. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny, as it did Anakin Skywalker's."

Exhausted, Leia paused for a moment, stopping beside a large root she probably would have tripped over if she'd continued. Her sweat-covered tank-top clung to her body, and her hair felt as if it were plastered onto her head. She twisted her neck so she could look at her new Jedi Master. "Master Yoda—is the Dark Side stronger than the Light Side?"

"No, no!" the Jedi shook his head. "As well you know, easy to reach, anger is—so it is with the Dark Side...Quicker and more seductive than the Light Side is the Dark Side, but more powerful, it is not."

Leia took in a deep breath, trying to slow her rapid heartbeat. "Obi-Wan told me that the Light Side was about peace...But how do you hold on to the Light Side? How do you reach that peace and avoid the Dark Side?"

"Realize, you must," Yoda told her, "that a Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack...If reach the Force for attack, you do, then the Dark Side you will find. Clear anger and fear from your mind, you must."

"But why can't—"

"No!" Yoda interrupted her. "There is no 'why!' Nothing more will I teach you today. Clear your mind of questions. Hmmm..."

Leia wiped some perspiration off her forehead, moving aside a few damp hairs before helping Yoda to the ground. She frowned as she noticed a huge gnarled tree. She didn't know why, but it filled her heart with dread...And beside it—

—beside it, a foreboding cave loomed. She felt unease make its wispy way through her body...And yet...It wasn't just the appearance of the cave and the tree that made her uneasy—there was a strange aura surrounding the area like none she had ever felt before...

"Something feels strange," she murmured, half to Yoda and half to herself. "I can sense something cold—a sort of death..." She turned, shivering, and saw Yoda prodding the ground solemnly with his gimer stick.

The Jedi Master spoke to her softly, not looking her in the face. "A domain of evil, that cave is—strong with the Dark Side of the Force..." Then he told her what she had feared: "Go in there, you must."

Leia turned to look at the cave, feeling goosebumps crawling all over her bare arms. Some sort of avian creature cackled at her from within the looming maw, making her spine crawl even more. "What will I find in there?" _Besides snakes and other foul creatures_, she added privately to herself, only half in jest.

"Only what you take with you," the Jedi Master replied unhelpfully.

His pupil looked back and forth between him and the cave before reaching to get her weapon belt out of her pack. There was no telling what sort of monsters were in there, and she didn't want to face them without some sort of protection.

"Your weapons," Yoda said somewhat loudly, startling her, "you will not need them."

The woman gave the tree and the cave another look, reaching out to the Force once again. Darkness still seemed to permeate the area, spreading out its cold tendrils in a way that was both inviting and repulsive.

After that scan, Leia shook her head decisively—she wasn't going in there unarmed, no matter what Yoda said. After hooking the belt to her waist, she moved aside some vines and entered the cave. With her lightsaber, she knew she could defeat the evil in this place. Creepy or not, she was confident she could win over this cave—

—for the cave really _was_ creepy, as she quickly discovered. It was like something out of a nightmare—full of darkness, reptiles, and slime. Only the light of her saber enabled her to navigate the cold and foggy blackness. She continued walking, moving through the eerie passageways until the Force told her to stop. Peering into the darkness, she found herself wishing she'd thought to bring a glowrod with her.

In the deathly silence, she could hear her heart beating. She took a few more steps and then paused as there was a sudden hiss—

—and a dark being strode forward, red lightsaber in hand.

Her breath caught in her throat—she would know that cloak and those glowing Sith eyes anywhere. Palpatine.

Disbelief and shock warred with rage as she sidestepped Palpatine's attack, parrying his blows with a fury which increased the power of her swings. Finally, more quickly than she had expected, she brought her own lasersword crashing down on the monster's neck. Satisfaction bubbled up within her as she watched his decapitated head fall off his shoulders. With a flash, his body disappeared, and she watched as his hood-covered head rolled around on the ground. Then it stilled, and she saw the face inside it.

The head was her own.

Gasping in surprise, Leia fumbled for the cave wall to stop herself from falling over in shock. Yoda had made a fool out of her—this had been a test, not some miniature reconnaissance mission. And she had failed it.


	5. Submitting

While Leia had been training with that strange green midget on Dagobah, Han and his somewhat frustrating passengers had been approaching the planet Myrkr, the _Falcon_'s engines purring like a pittin all the while. The ship had come out of hyperspace without a problem, and Han had given everyone nearby a cocky look afterwards, challenging them to say anything derogatory.

Han and Chewie had read up on Myrkr a little—though information in the databanks was sparse—and Chewbacca had noted that smugglers had often inhabited the planet, as the Jedi had always stayed far away from it. Whether they still did since the Jedi's near-extinction, the Wookiee wasn't sure.

Armed with that information, Han wasn't surprised that he didn't receive a hailing call from Myrkr's authorities—after all, there probably _weren't_ any authorities. Smug with this thought but also annoyed by it, Han turned to Obi-Wan. "Where would you like to set this baby down?"

Except for the droids, his passengers had gathered in the cockpit after exiting hyperspace, which was how it normally was when newcomers were on board his ship. People always had to nose around. Still, he couldn't always complain—sometimes he _did_ need to ask them questions.

Obi-Wan told him simply, "Wherever you can find a clearing."

It wasn't as easy as it sounded—Myrkr was heavily forested, and Han didn't want to get too close to any smuggler settlements, lest the inhabitants turn out unfriendly. Finally, Chewbacca noted a clearing large enough to land the _Falcon_ in.

Before bringing the ship all the way down, however, Han glanced over at Obi-Wan, did a double take, and then looked at his other passengers just to make sure he wasn't crazy. He wasn't—the kid and Vader looked just as out of sorts as Obi-Wan did. They looked as if they had been suddenly blinded.

Resisting the urge to say something biting, the smuggler simply ventured, "Is something wrong?"

"The influence of the ysalamiri apparently extends quite far," the old Jedi said, looking as if he were trying to shake himself out of a thick confusion. "We are no longer able to feel the Force."

"Ah," Han smirked, bring his eyes back to the monitors in front of him, "you're mere mortals like Chewie and I now, huh?"

"Something like that," Obi-Wan said, amusement evident in his voice.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were off the ship, combing the jungle for an ysalamir. They found the ysalamiri in the trees without too much trouble (though they hadn't initially known that was where they should be looking, as Anakin had never asked Palpatine for any details about the creatures), but they soon realized they had a different kind of problem.

"I can't get it off the tree," Luke called down. As the youngest, he'd been volunteered to climb their chosen tree. Chewie could have done it easily, but Han suspected the Wookiee had been amused at the thought of the young human clumsily climbing the tree and had neglected to speak up for that very reason. "I think if I pull too hard, I'll hurt it."

Han jerked his head at his copilot. "Go and help him, would you?"

The Wookiee growled and unsheathed his claws. Before long, he had scrambled up the tree. He examined the thin gray-brown ysalamir Luke was looking at, and then he roared down at Han.

"You think it's grown into the tree?" Han frowned. He turned to Obi-Wan. "How are we supposed to get it down? Take the limb off with it?"

"No," Anakin said quietly, catching Han's eye. "The Emperor kept them in special nutrient cages—I think the trees might supply those nutrients for them...If we just cut a limb down—well, the nutrient supply wouldn't last very long."

"So, what, we take a whole tree with us?" Han laughed, shaking his head. "Not quite sure how we could pull _that_ one off..."

The smuggler felt the cold barrel of a blaster touch his neck as a voice said from behind him, "Fortunately, you don't have to try to pull it off."

Obi-Wan and Anakin turned quickly, bringing their lightsabers to bear. Han, however, found himself caught in a firm headlock.

"Don't try it, Jedi," Mara Jade snarled at the two Force users in a cold low voice. "Without the Force, you're not going to be able to get to me before your pirate pal meets his grave."

Obi-Wan and Anakin looked at each other for a second before both extinguished their sabers and dropped them onto the ground. Still keeping a complaining Han at bay, Mara somehow managed to clip the Jedi's sabers to her belt. "Tell Sun and your Wookiee friend to get out of that tree and hand over any weapons to me."

"Great. Just great. We should've killed her when we had the chan—ow! Careful where you're sticking that thi—" Han broke off when Mara jabbed it into his neck harder "All right, all right! Do as she said, Chewie."

The Wookiee growled and climbed slowly down the tree, throwing several pointed glares at Mara, who just as pointedly ignored them. Luke came down after him.

"Put your weapons on the ground," the redhead ordered.

Chewie muttered some Wookiee obscenities as he relinquished his bowcaster, which Mara awkwardly put on. After doing so, she wiggled the barrel of her blaster into Han's neck a little bit. "Where's the vibroblade?" she asked him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Han protested. When the weapon dug harder into his skin, he finally sighed. "All right, I'll get it out of my boot."

When Mara was finally loaded down with all their weapons, she instructed, "Everybody but the Corellian drop to the ground." Moving carefully away with Han so that her feet wouldn't be swiped out from under her, she watched as her orders were obeyed. Then she brought her comlink out and called for backup.

"Sit tight, boys," the redhead told them, a harsh glint in her eyes. "It won't be long."

* * *

Leia was angry. She strode out of the cave and right past the ancient Jedi Master, who seemed somewhat sorrowful. But she didn't care. She stalked on.

She was mad at Yoda. No, not mad—she was krethin' _furious_ at the self-righteous Jedi. But she was even madder at herself. Yoda had been absolutely _right_; she had been falsely _confident_. All that was with her in the cave had been taken _by_ her—weapons and the potential for darkness.

That cloaked figure in the cave could easily be her a few years down the line—shrouded in darkness and evil, she could become a monster to rival what Palpatine had been. Her anger and impatience could lead her down the path her father had tread, the path Palpatine had glorified in.

She was so angry at herself—she knew it was just pushing her closer to darkness, but she couldn't help it. She did not like being made out to be the fool.

"Argh," she sighed, bringing her hands up to her face in frustration as she sat down on a mossy boulder. "Why did he do that to me?"

"Did he really do it to you? Or did you do it to yourself?" a familiar voice asked.

Slowly, Leia removed her hands from her face and looked up—

—at a shimmering ghost.

She shot to her feet, her heart pounding. "Who in space are you?" _And what happened to my sanity? _she wondered.

The spirit smiled at her. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn...I was Obi-Wan's master."

"Obi-Wan's master?" Leia echoed. She studied the ghost carefully. He was clad in earthy Jedi attire much like Obi-Wan usually wore. His long brown hair was pulled back, and his kind face was bearded and bore a mustache. "...So, you really are a ghost?" She peered around suspiciously for a holo projector, though the Force was telling her she was looking in vain.

The Jedi smiled at her. "I really am...And you, young Leia, seem to be really upset."

Leia exhaled and averted her eyes to the ground. "Yoda just made a fool out of me."

"Do you really think that was his purpose?"

"No," Leia said grudgingly. "But it doesn't feel that way."

"A lot of Jedi lessons are hard to take," Qui-Gon admitted, "but no one ever said that being a Jedi was easy...In fact, being a Jedi can be quite difficult, as I'm sure you can attest to."

"Yeah," the young woman replied, reluctantly smiling at him. It was strangely hard to stay angry around this Jedi.

The Jedi spirit sat beside her, somehow not passing through the rock. "Now, why do you suppose this lesson was important?"

Leia hesitated before replying. "I...I guess it was a warning."

"And a check on your self-confidence, I would imagine," Qui-Gon chuckled. "But take heart—no Jedi Master is perfect, much less a Jedi apprentice...Why, even Obi-Wan faced a lot of difficult lessons. I can remember when he nearly got mowed down by a battle droid because he shorted out his lightsaber in the water."

Leia laughed, and the sound cleansed her of all residues of her anger. "He really made a mistake like that?"

"Oh, more than once, I can assure you," the Jedi smiled at her. "The key to being a good Jedi is taking your lessons as what they are—not as slights against your character. If you become angry, your anger blinds you to the lesson, and you take little away from it. Beware taking lessons as insults, Leia...That is an easy road to the Dark Side."

Smiling, the Jedi apprentice stood up. "Thank you, Master Qui-Gon. You've given me a lot to think about."

"I'll be watching your progress, Leia," the spirit smiled. "And please remember how important your progress is to Obi-Wan—he thinks he's failed you as a teacher. Let him know that you think highly of his teachings—I can sense that you do."

Leia nodded and began walking toward Yoda's hut, where she could feel the small Jedi waiting for her. Steeling herself and readying an apology, she strode forward.

* * *

Bail sat on the bed in his room on Yavin IV, lost in thought.

The results of the Alliance government meeting had been both pleasing and distressful. He, Garm, and Mon—who were often simply called the Three—had succeeded in getting their ideas for the future Republic passed. They had also been elected to head the three branches as they had privately hoped—Bail at the head of the legislative branch, Mon Mothma at the head of the judicial branch, and Garm Bel Iblis at the head of the executive branch. But though a lot of positive governmental measures were passed, there was a lot of underlying tension at the meeting.

The Bothan Borsk Fey'lya, for instance, had desired one of the Triad leadership positions, but he had possessed no leverage. Bail was certain he would fight for one of the positions eventually, but that was a worry that had to be put aside for a while. More pressing was the unease created by Vader's being part of the Rebel Alliance.

None of the Three wanted to lie about Vader's conversion, but they'd seen a lot of evidence that many planets were unhappy with his involvement in the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Some beings refused to believe he hadn't died until they saw him in person; others cheered on the thought of the Emperor's top man switching to the better side. Still others sat by to see what developed from Vader's involvement—they wondered if the Alliance would collapse inward or grow stronger, and they didn't want to join the Alliance till they were sure it was the winning side.

Bail and the other two members of the Alliance Triad were unsure whether Vader's absence was a blessing or a curse, and they kept trying to direct attention to the triumph over the Emperor and what that would mean for both the Empire and the Republic. Still, in the back of Bail's mind, the thought lingered: what would happen to the galaxy now?

He wasn't sure. But he hoped the future was a bright one.

* * *

Han, his furry copilot, and his passengers had all been taken to a small building that appeared to have been emptied in a hurry. Han suspected people's duties had been shifted around so as few people would see the five of them as possible.

Inside the building, Mara Jade brought them to a thin black-haired man who was talking to a younger man with blue hair. The older man stopped talking and gave his visitors a tight smile. "Greetings, I'm—"

"—Talon Karrde," Han finished.

Karrde nodded at him in greeting. "Captain Solo." He moved his eyes to the others in the room, saying their names as they looked at him. "Chewbacca, Master Kenobi, Luke Skywalker...Lord Vader." He frowned, shaking his head. "I'm afraid you're not quite what I expected."

"I've changed," Vader said simply.

"Indeed," Karrde stated, his voice very calm, as if talking to former Sith Lords were a usual occurrence for him. "This is Zakarisz Ghent, one of the best slicers in the trade."

The young slicer gave them a bright smile. "Wow! Han Solo—I've always wanted to meet you!"

"Well, it's a shame it couldn't be a better meeting," Han replied, glowering at Karrde.

The dark-haired man nodded at Ghent in dismissal, and the slicer couldn't help but give a small wave before leaving the room. Glancing briefly at the stony-faced Jade, Karrde said, "I see you've already met one of my associates...I apologize for her overeagerness—I've never seen her act quite that way before." He seemed to be probing for answers from Jade, but she wasn't giving him any.

"Oh, we have a bit of a history with her," Han offered casually, nodding his head toward Mara Jade. She glared blaster bolts at him, and he gave her a sickly sweet grin.

"Really?" Karrde raised an eyebrow. "Care to inform me what kind of history?"

"Care to inform me what we're doing here?" the brown-haired pirate returned.

"I'll be getting no free information from Captain Solo, I see," Karrde said, giving a genuine smile. He spread his hands. "I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what to do with you."

"If the Empire is offering a bounty for us, we can double it," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, speaking up. He stared with clear eyes at Talon Karrde.

"Be that as it may, we have business dealings with both the Empire and the Rebellion, which makes our situation somewhat tricky...In addition, there have been some Imperials scouting out the area, though I'm not quite sure why yet. Before I decide what to do with you, I need to find out whether they know about your presence here."

"There are a lot of Corellian freighters out there," Han pointed out. "How would they know about my passengers, much less recognize my ship?"

Karrde gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised at how easily the Imperials are able to piece together information these days."

* * *

Karrde's statement struck a chord within Anakin, but he wasn't sure why. There was something he couldn't put his finger on…

"I have had my colleagues hide your ship," Karrde informed them, "though unfortunately the damage might already be done."

Solo grunted, "Uh huh. So, are you going to talk to these Imperials to figure out what they're doing?"

The dark-haired man gave a tight smile. "I was actually intending to do so shortly. Unfortunately, your presence cropped up and complicated matters."

Solo gave a noncommittal noise before speaking again. "So how did she—" he jerked his head toward Mara Jade, "—end up with you?"

Karrde looked at the redhead briefly before apparently deciding to divulge a little information. "I happened to pick her up in an escape pod...It was quite fortunate for her that we had dropped out of hyperspace to do a nav reading."

"Yes..." Obi-Wan muttered, almost to himself. Anakin agreed with what he believed was Obi-Wan's unspoken thought: Jade had probably initiated contact with Karrde by using the Force somehow…Or the Force itself had brought the incident about. It could not be an accident. That was for certain.

"She's been a wonderful employee, if a little tight-lipped, and I've had no complaints."

"Where are the droids?" Luke finally asked. He had been fidgeting a bit—perhaps under the glares Mara Jade had been throwing him—and the question seemed to have been on the tip of his tongue.

"All three droids have been put in a storage shed," Karrde told him. "I wouldn't recommend trying to get them without a few weapons on hand, though—there are some vicious predators in Myrkr's forests. Not knowing that, you're fortunate to have been unscathed when Mara found you."

"We can take care of ourselves," Solo told him, crossing his arms.

"I'm sure," Karrde responded, a smile briefly touching his lips. "A lot of the smugglers who abandoned this place didn't do so just because of the near-extinction of the Jedi—they also left because of creatures like the vornskrs. Some smugglers enjoy their late-night drunken walks a little too much to give them up."

"Uh huh," Solo stated under his breath.

"Mara will take you to your quarters," Karrde said with a nod toward the woman, "while I wait for information regarding the Imperials' activities..." He seemed to have given up on extracting information from the group.

The redhead was already gesturing them out with her blaster. "Come on. Don't make any sudden movements."

Anakin turned his head to look at Luke, only to notice him staring at Mara with a confused and hurtful look on his face. He filed that information in the back of his mind and walked forward.

* * *

Leia was standing on her hands, levitating rocks in the air with the Force.

This was amazing to her—not only that she would be able to physically support herself in such a way, but also that she would be able to do so while levitating multiple objects with her mind.

Yoda—who was on top of one of her feet—was saying, "Yes, yes...Use the Force..."

Leia moved the rocks so that one was on top of the other, making sure to carefully balance them. When she felt Yoda tapping her foot, she steeled her resolve and lifted one hand off the ground.

One of Dagobah's giant birds landed near them, and it cawed at her in a way that made her feel it was taunting her.

Trying to ignore the creature, she listened to what Yoda was saying. "Feel the stone," he was telling her. "Wrap it with the Force..."

The bird shrieked at her insistently, and she wavered, her arm trembling. She tried to move the stone on top, tried to envelop herself in the Force—but that blasted bird wouldn't let up with its screeching!

Finally, she couldn't maintain her focus any more, and she collapsed, Yoda calling out, "Concen-traaate!"

The Jedi Master somehow jumped clear, and Leia frowned at him as she panted. Maybe he was more agile than he looked...She wondered of a way to test his agility and grinned as she came up with one. "Master Yoda?"

"Hmm?" the Jedi queried, sounding somewhat frustrated with her.

She looked straight at him. "Have you fought many lightsaber battles?"

Yoda turned his head away from her, avoiding her gaze. "Dueled with a lightsaber, I have," he answered softly.

"Were you any good?"

The small Jedi's head whipped around to look at her. "Think you can beat me, do you?"

Leia smiled. "Well, let's just say I haven't seen anything that indicates I can't."

Yoda chuckled. "If a duel you want, then a duel I shall give you." As he swiftly dropped his gimer stick and brought his lightsaber to bear on her, Leia began to wonder if she had just made a big mistake.


	6. Striving

As far as Han knew, they had all been put in separate rooms, which meant it was up to him to get them out of there. He figured he should start formulating an escape plan, as Chewbacca would probably be too busy breaking things in frustration to attempt an actual escape and Jedi had to be next to useless without their "Force" to protect them. He was therefore surprised when his door opened to reveal not one of Karrde's associates but the kid.

"What?" Han blurted out, too shocked to form a coherent question.

The kid didn't seem confused at all; he just grinned at Han. "I wasn't very hungry."

After taking a few seconds to figure out what the kid's explanation meant, Han laughed and jumped up. Clapping his unexpected (and subsequently confused-looking) savior on the back, he told him, "Well, let's hope the others aren't hungry either!" He shook his head, amazed. Apparently, he had taught the kid a thing or two about taking advantage of golden opportunities.

The pair made short work of their companions' doors, and when Vader rushed out into the hall with everyone else, the Sith Lord asked in bewilderment, "How did you free us all?"

The pirate grinned at him. "Well, the kid jumped whoever was bringing him food, and the rest was pretty easy for someone with basic slicing skills. Karrde's not exactly used to holding prisoners here—he's more into information collecting than bounty hunting. Now, let's go before someone sounds an alarm."

Han began walking off but stopped when Obi-Wan called after him, "We need to get our lightsabers and an ysalamir."

Swiveling around, Han waggled a finger at the Jedi. "Now, wait a minute. This is our chance to get out of here—we try to go that far, and we're just as likely to get put back in those rooms. Is that what you want?"

"You are being paid to help us retrieve an ysalamir, Captain Solo," Vader said smoothly, "and I doubt you would like to give up your payment for failing to achieve that mission?"

Han glowered at the two Force users for a moment before growling, "All right. Let's go get some weapons and that stupid lizard of yours. But if we get caught again, you can't say I didn't warn you."

****

Leia was pinned down on the ground by a lightsaber far sooner than she had expected. The 900-year old Jedi Master had whipped around like a miniature tornado, flashing attacks at her like nothing she had ever seen. This was her first indication of how powerful this little being truly was. It was no wonder he was so well-respected—despite his humble appearance, he was an amazing Jedi.

Panting, Leia told him, "Good job."

The Jedi Master extinguished his saber and grabbed his cane. Leaning on it, he told her, "Remember the lesson of confidence."

Leia felt a brief twinge at the thought of the cave—she should know better than to be overconfident around Jedi. "Yes, Master."

"Done am I...for the day," Yoda said, sounding a little winded. Leia felt a twinge of guilt—he was too old for her to be requesting a duel with him. What was she thinking? "A few stories for you, Qui-Gon has."

Leia smiled at the thought of the Jedi spirit. Qui-Gon had been helping Yoda train her. Most of his training consisted of stories, but Leia felt they were important somehow. Yoda didn't seem to like to talk about the past, but Qui-Gon didn't mind, and she always delighted in his tales. "Yes, Master Yoda."

As she watched him walk slowly away, leaning more on his cane than usual, she began to worry about him. She felt a presence behind her, and she turned to find Qui-Gon also looking after Yoda.

"Master Qui-Gon, will Master Yoda be okay?" she queried once Yoda was out of earshot.

The Jedi Master waited a moment to formulate his reply. "Yoda has his own path to follow, Leia. Do not worry about him—he has the Force to comfort him. Think instead about what lies before you—a lot of lives will be resting in your hands before long."

Leia briefly touched her lightsaber, running her fingers across the cool metal. "Has Master Yoda been in any great lightsaber duels?"

Qui-Gon Jinn gave her a warm smile. "He's been an excellent swordsman for a long time...He certainly gave Darth Tyranus a work-out."

"Can you tell me about it?"

The Jedi nodded. "Our tales must live on through younger generations...And I think you need to learn the real story behind the Republic's fall...But listening won't always be easy, Leia."

Leia nodded in return. Staring at him with a plea in her eyes, she said, "Please, tell me."

****

Their first stroke of luck was finding a dozing guard with an ysalamir backpack. Unfortunately for him, he would find himself sleeping for a lot longer than he intended.

Their second stroke of luck was knowing where their weapons were. Unfortunately for them, their weapons had been put in a storage locker that required a code to open.

"Somehow, I don't think this'll be as easy to get open as the doors," Han muttered, studying the panel on the locker. "What we need's a good slicer...I don't think my expertise is up to this."

Anakin shifted his ysalamir backpack slightly and exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan.

"Perhaps we could find that slicer of Karrde's?" Obi-Wan suggested tentatively.

Han brightened. "That's a great idea—that kid looks wetter than a Mon Cal. I doubt he'll put up much trouble. We'd better hurry though—it won't be too long before Karrde discovers we're missing."

****

When Bail Organa had been told that someone he would like to see was coming to Yavin IV, he had automatically assumed it was Leia. Though the person waiting for him at the docking bay was not the adopted daughter he had been worrying about, the sight of his unexpected visitor filled him with immense joy and relief.

"Nial!" he shouted, running forward to envelop his nephew in a hug. Bail felt his eyes fill with happy tears—the boy was back. He whispered in a haggard voice, "Oh, Nial, I'm so glad to see you're alive!"

The young man was stiff, not returning his hug. But Bail was glad the boy was alive and not pulling away from him, and he barely cared whether his hug was returned or not. The boy was _alive_.

"What happened?" Bail finally asked, pulling away to look his nephew in the face.

Nial's eyes were clouded, and Bail could not read the emotions behind them. The boy's voice, too, was without any recognizable sensibility. "I escaped from Kessel, Uncle."

"But how did you escape? Did someone help you?" Bail tried to search Nial's face for something—what, he wasn't sure—but the youth was still not giving him any clues.

"It doesn't matter, Uncle," Nial replied slowly. "I escaped, and that is what matters."

Bail pulled him into another hug, feeling tears wet his eyes again. "I'm so glad, Nial...I'm so glad...And I'm sorry, Nial...I'm so sorry..."

But no happiness or relief was expressed by Nial. He didn't indicate rejection or acceptance of Bail's apology; he simply withstood the embrace and stared into nothingness with his cold eyes.

****

They found Ghent in a computer room glued to the screen of his chosen machine. Han was grateful that Karrde had mostly cleared the base out, but he'd been a sabaac player for too long to believe that their lucky streak would last much longer. He mouthed to his companions, "I'll handle this," before stepping forward to tap Ghent on the shoulder. Han had taken the blaster from the sleeping guard, but he was confident that he wouldn't need to use it. The good ol' Han Solo charm should do nicely.

The kid jumped and twisted around to face them—he had been completely engrossed in his task and hadn't heard their approach. "Wow! It's you again!"

Han grinned at him. "Yep, it's me all right."

Ghent moved his head slightly to look at Han's companions before bringing his eyes back to the pirate's face. "I guess this is one of Han Solo's famous escapes, huh?"

"That's what it looks like."

Ghent reached his hand down to grab his comlink. "I'd better tell the boss, then."

"No, no, no," Han sputtered, trying to keep the youth's attention. "We need you to help us out with something."

For a few moments, the slicer looked at him. Finally, he shook his head slowly. "I can't help you escape—the boss'd be really mad at me." He began to reach for his comlink again.

_Well, I guess the Solo charm can't work all the time_, Han thought to himself. He sighed and told Ghent, "I wanted to do this the easy way, kid, but..." He brought up his blaster and pointed it loosely at the slicer. "Look, we've got a busy agenda, and these Jedi need their lightsabers."

The boy's eyes were as wide as Tatooine's suns, and he squeaked, "Please, don't kill me!"

"We won't kill you," Obi-Wan said gently, giving Han a reprimanding look. "We simply need your help."

"I guess I don't really have a choice," Ghent said with a sigh. He stood up and shrugged in resignation. "Lead the way, I guess."

****

After they retrieved their weapons, Obi-Wan insisted that they not knock Ghent out—the slicer had been so helpful, after all. As a result, they just barely made it out of the building before alarms sounded.

"Ah, kriff...People and their morals," Han muttered, looking disgusted. He nodded toward some nearby spacecraft. "Let's take two of those Skipray Blastboats and run."

"No," Luke asserted, shaking his head in emphasis. "We need to get the droids."

"No," Han said firmly. "We leave the droids and save our hides."

Anakin seemed to make a quick decision. He took off his ysalamir backpack and gave it to Luke, who took it without a word. Anakin then pointed to one of the ships Han had noted. "Take that ship and head to the _Falcon—_she'll need to be warmed up for take-off. I'll go get the droids and bring them to the _Falcon _in that ship." He gestured at a different Skipray Blastboat.

"Anakin—" Obi-Wan began.

"There's no time to argue. Just do it." The former Imperial took off at a jog, presumably to find the storage shed the droids were being kept in.

Obi-Wan nodded at Han. "Let's do as he says." He smiled to himself, inwardly thinking, _It feels just like old times..._

****

Fortunately, the Skipray Blastboats were on standby, so they were able to take off quickly.

"Where do you think the _Falcon_ is?" Luke asked. He seemed to be nervous, and he kept running his fingers across the ysalamir backpack in his lap. Every now and then, he would say something under his breath that sounded like Tusken. Obi-Wan wondered if he were trying to calm the ysalamir—if so, it was a pointless effort. He didn't even think ysalamiri could get upset, and the one Luke was holding looked as if it wouldn't even be upset by a blaster bolt to the foot.

"Well," Han said, giving the younger man a quick look, "Karrde seems to be leery of those Imperial scouts, so he probably didn't move her far. My guess is, he put some camo netting on her—maybe moved her a little further into the trees if he could."

The quarters were rather tight, so Obi-Wan watched Luke carefully. Tuskens were known for disliking small spaces, and Obi-Wan suspected Luke might be feeling a little claustrophobic. The ship was just barely able to fit the four of them—Skipray Blastboats were apparently not meant for Wookiees or passengers with ysalamir backpacks.

"I think we need to hurry," Luke said softly, almost to himself.

Inwardly, Obi-Wan agreed. With the alarms crying out as they were, it wouldn't be long before Mara Jade came after them.

****

"The Jedi Council disapproved of Jedi falling in love. They believed attachments led to fear and anger...It may be true, in a way, but most sentient beings can't help but love. And selfless love—the kind that the Jedi would support—can be very hard to attain."

Leia watched Qui-Gon as he talked. There was such sadness in his voice and on his face—he would often smile, but he seemed to have been hurt somehow in the past.

"The bond of Padawan and master is rarely free from love. Members of the Jedi Council never wanted to admit it, but the relationship was not just one of mentor and pupil...It was one of parent and child." Qui-Gon exhaled slowly. "When a parent fails his child, or a child fails his parent, there is a lot of pain and sorrow. The hopes and dreams of a Jedi Master rest in the activities of his Padawan...Do you know how much a Jedi Master fears, Leia?" His blue eyes sought her face, and she could see the sad earnestness behind them. "The path to darkness is an easy one, and some people begin taking it without realizing."

"Like my father," Leia said grudgingly.

Qui-Gon nodded. "No one is born, evil, Leia. You need to forgive your father."

Leia stood up, slowly pacing around to avoid the Jedi Master's knowing eyes. Her emotions were bubbling to the surface, and she found herself talking as if in desperation. "A part of me wants to do just that. A part of me wants to just release my anger and accept him. You've told me his story—I even cried over his fall. But there is a stronger image that keeps staring me in the eye. It's hard for me to see that child you tell me of, that young man crying over what happened in his life. Instead, I see that monster in that dark suit choking innocent people simply because he doesn't think they're useful any longer..." She shook her head, trying to clear the image from her mind. "Master Qui-Gon, after Mother died, _why_ did he keep on killing? Why did he keep himself alive? If she was his life and she was taken away from him, which would mean that the only thing left to him was death, why didn't he kill himself?"

Qui-Gon looked away from her, not speaking for a few seconds. When he finally did talk, it was to answer her with another question: "Have you tried asking him?"

The question left Leia with a bitter feeling. No, of course she hadn't. She barely even spoke a civilized word to him, much less asked him questions about himself. She brought her chin down to her chest and sighed.

****

When Anakin arrived at the _Falcon_ with the three droids in his "borrowed" Skipray Blastboat, he quickly transferred the droids and himself to the Corellian freighter. As the ramp closed, he felt the _Falcon_ lifting off the ground. The ship's captain certainly wasn't wasting any time.

"Where's the ysalamir?" he queried when he reached the cockpit, unable to see the creature anywhere.

"In the back," Han grunted. He nodded toward his scopes. "Looks like you picked up a tail. Another one of those ships is coming for us."

"Oh, dear," Threepio whimpered.

"Move quickly then," Obi-Wan told Han softly. The Jedi's brow was furrowed, and he moved to look at Anakin questioningly.

"It's probably Jade," Anakin said bluntly. The redhead was certain to be furious about their escape.

The _Falcon _rocked as the Skipray Blastboat began firing at them. Artoo whistled in surprise, and Threepio made several exclamations which everyone ignored.

"Ah, Sith," Han muttered to himself. "Evasive maneuvers, Chewie."

The Wookiee roared at him in frustration, his furry paws already flying over the controls.

"This might be a bumpy ride," the Corellian warned his passengers.

Luke's droid shook his head quizzically, nearly falling over as the ship shuddered. "Why is it that humans delight in understatement?"

****

A young man with icy eyes sat in front of a communications console. In his hand, he held a datacard with encrypted instructions. His hand trembled, the apprehension expressed by them at odds with the calm coldness of his eyes. He seemed to be facing a decision, some sort of dilemma which was wrapped up in the use of that small object.

Finally, he took in a deep breath, his face hardening. He clutched the datacard firmly to his chest, having come to a decision.

****

The _Falcon_ was nearly out of Myrkr's gravity well, but she was taking some heavy hits from the Skipray Blastboat that was hot on her pursuit. Recognizing the skill of his opponent, Han was doubtful that he could jump into hyperspace before his ship's hyperdrive was disabled. Which meant there was only one option. "Somebody's gotta go to the guns," Han stated bluntly.

The Jedi, who finally had access to the Force, looked at one another hesitantly.

"I can do it," Luke said softly. His face was so serious nobody chose to argue with him.

The youth disappeared from the cockpit, and the ship's captain winced as his vessel took another hit. "The kid's a good shot, but he'll probably need a little back-up."

"I will help him," Vader volunteered, and soon he too was gone from the cockpit.

"Let's hope they're as good as they think they are," Han muttered. Privately, he was quite interested in seeing how good of a shot Vader was.

****

"Can all Jedi appear as ghosts?"

Qui-Gon smiled warmly at his apprentice. "It is a technique that must be taught—it does not come naturally."

Leia picked up a fallen branch and began absentmindedly breaking it into smaller pieces. "Can I learn how to do it?"

Her mentor laughed. "You are not dead yet, young Padawan."

"Well," Leia shrugged, "we all die some day."

"Indeed," the Jedi replied softly. He studied her for a few moments before lifting his hands in the air with palms up. "One should not appear as a spirit without purpose...If you one day find a purpose for doing so, maybe someone will teach you."

"...You mean _you_ will teach me, right, Master Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon smiled at her. "Recite the Jedi Code, Leia."

Reluctantly, the Jedi apprentice took in a slow breath, enveloping herself in the code. "There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force." Leia frowned and lifted up her head to look at her master.

"We are not simply moldings of matter, Leia," the spirit said softly. "We are part of the Living Force. The death of our bodies is not the death of our souls, and even if we are unable to present ourselves to the so-called living, it does not mean we are permanently gone. We are always part of the whole."

Leia nodded in acknowledgement, considering his words.


	7. Seeking

Anakin was quick in shuffling his way down the gunport stairs and dropping into the seat behind the quad-laser, but he did not begin shooting immediately. Instead, he stretched his senses out toward his son. He wanted to give the boy a chance to prove himself.

He didn't have to wait very long—the ship's mentally unstable captain soon pulled some quick and reckless move that left Anakin feeling dizzy and the _Falcon_'s opponent sitting right in front of Luke's turret. A few blasts later, Luke had somehow managed to disable both the Skipray Blastboat's engines and guns without harming the ship's occupant.

Solo let out a deranged victory yell and shouted a comment about Luke's marksmanship. Anakin couldn't help but smile. Yes, his son _was_ a kriffin' good shot.

****

As the _Falcon_ moved to pull up beside the disabled starfighter, Chinnatah hurried to the cockpit, where Han was talking with Chewie about their next step.

"Blasted redhead's a nuisance," the space pirate was muttering. "We should have just blown up the whole ship."

"Send a message to Karrde," Chinnatah suggested.

Han's head whipped toward him in disbelief. "What in space are you talkin' about, Kid? She'll come after us again as soon as she can—we shouldn't leave a threat like that at our back."

"Send a message to Karrde," the former Tusken repeated, meeting his friend's gaze stubbornly. He turned his head slightly as his father walked in.

Han opened his mouth—likely to make a sarcastic retort—and then closed it. A strange smile appeared on his face. "You wanna save her, huh?"

Chinnatah gave him a wary look, unsure what to make of the emotions he could sense from the man. "I don't want her to die."

"Uh huh," Han replied, the strange grin becoming even bigger.

"Solo," Anakin said warningly. He took a few steps toward the smuggler.

But Han, amazingly enough, ignored him. "You like her, don't you?"

Chinnatah stared at him, feeling as if there was something important he was missing. "Yes, I like her."

"Do you wanna ki—_ow_!" Han sputtered, glaring at the hydrospanner that had come out of nowhere and hit him. "What the kreth was that for?"

"The last thing he needs is _you_ putting ideas in his head," Chinnatah's father snarled.

Chinnatah himself switched his gaze from one to the other in confusion. He didn't understand what their problem was...

"So, what—you're saying he hasn't had the talk about the whisper birds and the—_Sith_!" Han cut off, the hydrospanner hitting his back again and causing a loud _thump_ to resound in the cockpit.

"Might we have this conversation at a more convenient time?" Obi-Wan interjected.

Giving Anakin a venom-filled look, Han gave out a clipped, "Sure." His annoyance still clearly evident, he turned to Chinnatah and told him, "Look, Kid, I'm sure Karrde already knows about our little skirmish here. We need to hit hyperspace before he gets someone up here to come after us. And don't worry, your girlfr—_stang_! Vader, would you stop with the blasted hydrospanner?" Han sharply turned around to glare blaster bolts at the former Sith Lord.

Chinnatah's eyes were on Han, but his mind had left the ship to reach out to the fuming Mara Jade. He felt hurt yet sorrowful. Why was Mara's attitude so changed? What had happened to the—the _friendship_ they had shared? Had he lost another friend? Their meeting had been so short that it was not really much of a meeting at all...He felt as if in such a large galaxy as this—for he had looked at the _Falcon_'s charts more than once and had seen that there were worlds upon worlds that one could visit—it was very fortunate that he had crossed her path at all. Would the spirits grant him the opportunity to meet her again?

He hoped so...

****

When Karrde was informed of the altercation taking place above Myrkr, his mind had already been racing with fictional scenarios. He knew the Imperials—who had unfortunately moved closer to his side of the planet—wouldn't have missed something so obvious. Two ships taking off from a base to meet in battle was something that was sure to arouse attention.

Drang, one of his pet vornskrs, let out a cackle-purr, perhaps sensing his unease.

"I need to make up a story and inform Mara of it quickly," Karrde told the creature, reaching down a hand to pet him. If possible, he needed to prevent the identity of his escaped prisoners from getting out. He didn't want to think about what Imperial horrors would be rained down upon his base if it were known he had secretly housed people on the Empire's Most Wanted list.

Sturm—his other vornskr—lifted his canine head from the floor, looking up at him lazily.

"Perhaps if I help the Imperials with their business, I will be spared," the smuggler chief murmured, staring at Sturm with a blank face. Knowing who was in command, though, Karrde wasn't quite sure what to expect. And that was something he hated.

****

After the _Falcon _made the jump to hyperspace, everyone slowly trickled out of the cockpit except for Luke and Han. Luke seemed to be deep in thought, so Han watched him for a few minutes before finally speaking. "Tell me, Kid, _has _ol' daddy given you the talk about the whisper birds and the raptor-wasps?"

At the other's blank stare, Han specified, "Do you know what men and women do together in private?"

The Kid looked at him for several moments, seeming to contemplate several possible answers. He finally grasped onto the right one, venturing, "Mate?"

The smuggler chuckled in amusement. "Not quite the way I would put it, but you seem to know what I mean."

Luke tilted his head and looked at him expectantly.

"So, you seem pretty interested in Jade..." Han trailed off, carefully watching the younger man.

Luke's expression flickered. "She was my companion on Coruscant..."

"Yeah," Han said casually, giving a slight nod. He messed around with a few knobs on the console in front of him. "You interested in...'mating' with her?" He turned his head so he could see the youth's face.

The Kid's surprise was unmistakable. "M-mate?" he sputtered. "But I have not been assigned a ma—"

"Look, Kid," Han broke in, giving him a weird look, "there ain't nobody around here who's gonna assign you a mate but yourself. If you're interested in a girl, you'll have to pursue her on your own."

"But—" Luke attempted.

Han interrupted again: "Trust me. You don't want your father choosing your girlfriend—stang, I'm still surprised he even _had_ children. If you ever want help in the romance department, you come to me, Kid. Don't let Vader mess it all up for you, all right?"

"All right," the Kid repeated meekly.

****

After exiting hyperspace in front of Dagobah, the _Falcon_'s communications unit began flashing, indicating that they had received a message.

It was a short and cryptic message, and Han reviewed it a few times before he was finally willing to relay it.

"Says here we've got a message," he told his passengers, who looked at him curiously. "It says, 'He is still alive! Please come home immediately. He wants to see you.' It's signed 'Bail.'" He looked around at his passengers and queried, "Anyone know who he's talking about?"

Obi-Wan stirred, his robes rustling quietly. "I suspect I know...But this is a message for Leia. She should read it before I say anything more."

Han shrugged. "Whatever you say, old man." He shifted in his seat to throw a glance at his copilot. "Chewie, get ready to land the ship."

The Wookiee roared an affirmative, his hands already resting on the controls.

Both pilots were tense as they handled the _Falcon_, remembering the roughness of their first landing on Dagobah. This time, however, they were more fortunate, landing with ease on a spot Obi-Wan indicated.

"Guess the weather's not so bad this time," Han muttered, although somehow he suspected weather was not the reason for their smooth landing. He'd never admit that out loud to the Jedi, though.

****

The walk to Yoda's hut was a lot shorter than it had been previously. Chinnatah believed it was because Yoda had wanted the first time to serve as a sort of trial. Tuskens didn't present trials as nearly-dead womp rats, and Chinnatah didn't think Yoda did either. Trials were meant to be difficult, and that made whatever was at the end worth that much more. Of course, he hadn't been able to enjoy the completion of his Tusken trials...Would he ever be able to face any new trials? Could he trust himself not to flee? He had abandoned the Ghorfa to go with Darth Vader. Then he had left Darth Vader to go with Han. Now, he wasn't sure where exactly he was, but he knew the two old Jedi were wanting to pull him to them.

But would he be able to stick with the Jedi path? Or would he be frightened away from it?

Chinnatah suspected Yoda might somehow have answers for him...But did he want the answers he would receive? Did he want to try to commit his whole life to others? He had been a friendless loner in Tusken society...Would he be able to fit into this strange society which was meant to spread across the entire galaxy?

Yoda and Leia were nowhere in sight, but Obi-Wan said with a gesture, "We will wait here."

Anakin nodded and quickly sat down. He had left the ysalamir on the ship, not yet wanting to completely envelop himself in its Force-less field.

As everyone finished settling in, Chinnatah heard a strange whistling bird call. He turned and saw a reptavian sitting on a branch and staring at him. Upon meeting his eyes, it shook its fuchsia head-crest at him. The reptavian's face was strangely expressive, and he thought it might be smiling at him.

He gave a Tusken handsignal which signified a greeting, and the creature flew over to land on his outstretched arm.

Seeing Han's stare and sensing his skepticism, Chinnatah gave him a smile. "I have a...way with animals."

The blue and white astromech droid let out a few whistles and beeps, the large red eye on his dome resting on Chinnatah and the bird.

Threepio put a golden hand on Artoo, giving the appearance of an emotion Chinnatah suspected was amazement. "You are correct that it is strange, Artoo. Wild jubba birds tend to be very distrustful of strangers."

The jubba bird picked gently at the former Tusken's hair, and Chinnatah reached out to touch a leathery wing. Was the reptavian trying to tell him something?

With a pang of sorrow, he thought back to Vrentlla, the bantha that had been his pillar of strength. Perhaps he hadn't really been a loner after all—he had just found a companion in a different species from the Ghorfa.

He reached out with the Force to touch the jubba bird, sensing a surprising sentience. It sang to him softly, and he whispered, "Friend."

The bird gave him one last affectionate nibble before flying away. Hearing Chewbacca roar a goodbye to it, Chinnatah couldn't help but smile. He lifted his hand in a human gesture of farewell.

Maybe he was meant to have friends after all.

****

It hadn't been too long before Leia began to feel as if she were drowning in restlessness. It was impossible for her to know what exactly was happening in the galaxy around her, and she hated that. Shouldn't she be tending to issues of galactic government instead of rotting on this slimehole? She wanted to leave, but Yoda kept attempting to discourage her and calling her impatient.

Qui-Gon wasn't any help either. He also thought she should stay. He'd tried to explain himself, but she hadn't wanted to listen.

Blasted Jedi. They always had to agree on everything, didn't they?

"Feel the plant, you must," Yoda prompted, only further feeding her bad mood.

She was supposed to be meditating. The galaxy could be falling apart, and she was supposed to be meditating.

"Why, Master Yoda?" she gritted, not even bothering to hide her annoyance. "What is reaching out to plants ever going to do for me? They're _plants_—they can't think, they can't move. That plant is just about as useful to me as a dead woolly moth—which is to say, not at all."

"Leia," the glimmering spirit of Qui-Gon said in a soothing voice, "you need to learn to feel the Force around you, to know the difference between that plant and another, to understand the species of any being nearby. To be at tune with all living matter is to—"

"—be at one with the Living Force," Leia finished for him. She had started to pace. "But why do I need to do this?" Turn, walk, turn, walk...

"Know the minds of others, a politician must," Yoda inserted. He pointed a finger at Leia, and she stilled upon seeing it. "Learn their weaknesses, you must—have those weaknesses, you could as well. The Jedi did not feel the Emperor's evil—but feel evil in the next Palpatine, perhaps you will." He straightened, that verbal lesson ended without further elaboration. "With your mind, stretch out," he instructed firmly.

Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, Leia closed her eyes. They were right, of course—she needed to learn not to be so angry when that happened...which was, unfortunately, quite frequently.

She touched the plant first, her mind enveloping it in a cocoon of the Force—or perhaps its presence in the Force enveloped her. Regardless, she felt the soothing nature of the plant. She could sense how it simply _was_.

Then she moved her mind past the plant, to other plants, to some small animals, to a few bigger animals. Then she reached out even more, sensing some giant creature, and then—

Her eyes opened. "They're here!"

Yoda simply nodded, and Qui-Gon smiled at her. "Indeed," the Jedi spirit confirmed. "Shall we go and visit them?"

The young woman had begun to rush off toward Yoda's hut, but then she paused and turned to gaze at the old Jedi Master with a patience she would not have been able to gather to herself before she had met this small Jedi Master. "Master Yoda, may we please go see them?"

The alien gave her a hint of a smile. "See them, we may."

****

Leia first ran up and hugged Obi-Wan; then she turned to hug Luke, who remained standing there uncertainly. She smiled at the droids, and finally her eyes landed on Han and her father. There was a bit of an awkward silence before Obi-Wan spoke.

"We received a message from Bail," Obi-Wan began. Leia's eyes lit up as he continued. "I think it may be about your cousin, though I'm not sure..."

Leia took several steps toward the gray-haired Jedi Master, her heart throbbing in her throat. "What was the message, Obi-Wan?" she managed. Her mouth felt as if it were full of nerf-wool.

Obi-Wan hesitated briefly before speaking. "Bail doesn't say who exactly he is talking about, but he does say that someone is alive and wants to see you."

"What?" she whispered. "Could it be true?"

This couldn't be some cruel jest, could it? Could Nial actually be _alive_?

"I—" Leia broke off, her voice cracking. She swallowed, moistening her throat. "I must go see him."

"Leia," Qui-Gon's concerned voice said quietly. He wasn't visible, but Leia could feel him nearby.

Ignoring him, she closed her eyes and reached out to the Force, trying desperately to find her cousin's presence. She stretched—stretched—

—and was hit by a hazy vision.

_There were two figures standing in a room together. Their forms were blurred—their faces impossible to distinguish—but they seemed to know each other. There was noise, and then—_

_Two shots, pain, and blackness. Utter blackness._

Leia gasped, her eyes shooting open. "Death, death," she panted, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She began to waver and almost fall, but someone caught her before she could hit the ground.

Her vision briefly faded out and then in, and she suddenly found herself looking up into Han's concerned face.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worry evident in his voice.

Were the situation different, she might have felt touched. As it was, however, she simply felt desperate. Twisting in the smuggler's arms, Leia's eyes moved quickly around and landed on Yoda. "I saw death," she rasped, trying to let Yoda see how much she needed answers. "Death," she repeated raggedly.

The Jedi Master lowered his head, his ears drooping sadly. "A vision of the future, you saw."

"Master Yoda, who were those two people?"

The Jedi didn't answer. He simply prodded the ground with his gimer stick.

"I—I think one of them was Nial." Leia bit her lip in shock. She hadn't felt it before, but now—she was almost sure it was him...But did that mean—

"Yoda, is he going to die?" Her heart was thudding dully against her chest, and she felt a chill come down over her.

Yoda spoke softly. "Difficult to tell, it is...The future is always in motion, always changing..."

"Can I save him? Master Yoda, tell me, will I be able to save him?" She had broken out of Han's grip by now and was kneeling in front of the elderly Jedi Master, ignoring how everyone was staring at her in surprise. Leia didn't even try to hide her desperation—it was in her voice, in her posture, in her entire being.

"Know that, I do not," Yoda told her, gazing calmly but sorrowfully into her eyes. "See several possible futures, I do...Know which one will pass, I do not."

Leia took in a deep breath, her mind spinning.

"Decide, you must, how to help him most," the Jedi Master said softly. "By leaving now, help him, you could, but you would be going against all we have been striving for. Let your recklessness and impatience guide you, you can, but hurt your growth, it will." He seemed to be pleading with her.

"Yoda, if Nial is in danger, I must go to him," the young woman whispered. "I must see him again."

Neither Obi-Wan nor Qui-Gon said anything. They may have served as her teachers, but Yoda was truly her master. Two beats passed before the small Jedi replied. "If see him again, you do," he said slowly, his eyes wide and sorrowful, "no happiness will you find."

"Then maybe I'm not meant to be happy," Leia said shortly, turning sharply and walking away, her eyes wet with tears.


	8. Leaving

Han watched Leia walk off for a few seconds. Despite her bad mood, he felt a smile tugging at his face. The stubborn princess was obviously trying to make a beeline for the _Falcon_, but she had no idea where it was. Readying himself to deal with that spitfire of a woman, he took a deep breath. Then he jogged after her. "Leia!" he called out.

The determined brunette didn't stop. "What?" she flung back at him.

"Would you hold on just a minute?" Han huffed, catching up with her and grabbing her arm.

Leia pushed his arm away, refusing to look at him. "Why should I?"

"You know I don't quite believe in this hokey religion stuff," Han began, "but I think that old short guy might know what he's talking about. If he doesn't think you should go, then maybe—"

"I thought my cousin was dead," Leia bit out, finally turning to look at him. "These past few years—I—I thought he was going to die in Kessel...Stars, he _should've_ died in Kessel, just like everyone else who goes there. But for some reason, he didn't—and now I have to see him. I have to let him know that we still love him, that we weren't betraying him, that—" Somehow, tears had started streaming down her face, and it was all she could do to choke back a sob.

And then Han was taking her into his arms, gently rubbing her back, and stroking her hair. "It's okay, Leia," he said soothingly. "We'll get you to your cousin. I promise you that."

****

Yoda stared after the retreating forms of Leia and Han and let out a sigh. "Decided, her mind is. Pack for her, I will."

Anakin watched the Jedi Master move away, and then he turned to look at Obi-Wan with a wry smile. "I have a bad feeling about this, Master."

Anakin's eyes widened, and he froze. The word had simply escaped his lips. For a moment—one brief, brief moment—he had felt as he had two decades ago. He had been participating in an easy camaraderie with the man who had been like a father to him. His eyes were slowly drawn to Obi-Wan's, and he expected to find sorrow in them. Instead, he saw them filled with happiness and a hint of nostalgia.

Obi-Wan placed a hand on his arm. "As do I, Anakin." His eyes darkened as he turned them away to look in the distance. "As do I."

****

Karrde sat back in his expensive but well-worn chair, idly stroking Sturm's head as he recalled the conversation that had recently taken place. It had not been a pleasant one.

"_This is Captain Pellaeon of the _Chimaera_," a hologram of a middle-aged man informed him curtly._

"_Ah, Captain," Karrde dipped his head in greeting. "It's pleasure to hear from you. I'm Talon Karrde. I was going to contact you soon to see if you and Grand Admiral Thrawn needed any assistance with the ysalamiri."_

"_What?" The man managed to hide his surprise with the appearance of confusion quite well, but Karrde was skilled at reading people and felt a sense of triumph in catching the Imperial off-guard._

"_Ah, yes, I forget—certainly, I don't know anything about a Grand Admiral Thrawn—nor could I possibly know anything about the extraordinary abilities ysalamiri possess—abilities which, if they existed, would probably be the only reason the Empire would be interested in such a planet as Myrkr. Not that I would know anything about that."_

"_You are dangerously informed for a smuggler," Pellaeon said in a voice with a hint of a growl underneath it._

"_My people hear a lot of rumors," Karrde responded simply with a smile. He spread his arms and gave a small shrug._

"_Your people seem to be involved in a little drama today," Pellaeon said casually. The attempt at beating around the bush was soon given up, however, and he bluntly asked, "What happened?"_

_Well, at least they weren't wasting any more time. "Merely an altercation between some disgruntled former employees and one of my associates."_

"_Your associate was left alive...Why was that?" The captain's face was hard. It was obvious he was willing to completely dismiss anything that remotely resembled a fabrication, so Karrde needed to tread carefully._

"_Perhaps a stroke of conscience?" Karrde suggested. "The former employees were once close to my associate..." On a whim, he improvised, "One of them was romantically involved with her at one time."_

"_Indeed," Pellaeon said quietly, though he didn't seem to completely believe the story. "I wonder why they were piloting such a beat-up freighter? Surely they could have made a better choice of what to steal...Unless the ship was theirs and somehow slipped under your surveillance?"_

_The information dealer hesitated for the minutest of moments. "The ship was mine—my people used it for work in some of the galaxy's less...prosperous systems. One of the men who just escaped once worked aboard the ship. He was attached to it for reasons unknown to me, and upon being released from my employ, he became determined to take the ship off my hands—and finally succeeded, as I'm sure you noticed. I am gathering a group now to pursue them. Hopefully, they haven't gone far."_

_He heard his communications officer shifting around on his right. He knew Aves would soon be assembling the very crew he had just mentioned. Karrde had no real desire to pursue the _Falcon_—he was not a bounty hunter, after all—but he would need to do _something_ for appearance's sake. Thrawn would be keeping a very close eye on him._

"_Hopefully..." the captain echoed quietly, his voice lacking any trace of sincerity._

"_If you wish, I can also prepare a crew to teach your men about proper ysalamiri extraction."_

_The Imperial sounded wary. "I have been told that they are non-predatory and measure less than fifty centimeters long."_

"_Well, what you have heard is correct," Karrde said smoothly, "but the claws of adult ysalamiri have grown into the trees they inhabit—if you carelessly remove an ysalamir, you will kill it. They are a bit delicate, you see."_

"_And I suppose that _you_ know how to remove one?"_

"_Not me, personally," the smuggler told him, "but some of my men know, and they would be more than willing to aid you."_

"_And I suppose there will be a 'nominal' fee for your services?" Pellaeon growled._

"_There will be no fee, Captain," the smuggler chief informed him warmly. "I simply wish to be neighborly."_

"_Indeed," the other man said beneath his breath. There was a menace beneath the word which seemed to indicate an unspoken threat—Karrde's offer and subsequent actions would all be carefully scrutinized._

But Karrde had no intentions of invoking the Empire's wrath, so the captain really had nothing to worry about. No, it was Karrde who should be worried. Giving Sturm a final pat, Karrde got to his feet. It was time to check with Aves.

****

"Remember your training," Yoda advised his young female pupil as she stood at the ramp of the _Millennium Falcon_. He seemed a bit grumpy, but he was no longer protesting Leia's decision.

"I will, Master Yoda," Leia promised. She waved at Yoda one last time before disappearing into the ship. Han, Chewie, Anakin, and the droids were all already inside. Obi-Wan and Luke, however, were still lingering outside the ship.

"I am sorry I disrupted her training with my news," Obi-Wan apologized.

"Had to make her own choices, she did," Yoda grunted dismissively, "as will you." His last few words were directed at Luke. He stared meaningfully at the young human. Luke's response was to look away uncomfortably.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a few seconds, but the small Jedi Master told him, "Go. If return all of you do, then so it will be. Protect their futures, you must, Obi-Wan."

The larger Jedi Master nodded, finally moving up the ship's ramp.

Luke stood expectantly in front of Yoda for a few moments before the small green being spoke to him. "Wish you would stay, I do...But know also, I do, that ready for it you are not. Forget not the Jedi, Luke...Forget not that a Skywalker you are—not a Tusken."

After a moment, the boy nodded in acknowledgment of Yoda's words. The Jedi Master watched him walk away. He knew that the boy was considering that which had been put in front of him. His were the shoulders on which the death or rise of the Jedi rested.

Yoda felt he should have been saddened by the thought of the extinction of the Jedi. Instead, he just felt weary. Perhaps he was just simply too old. Or perhaps the Force was trying to tell him something.

Turning away from the rising ship, Yoda began the short but slow and lonely journey back to his hut.

****

It didn't take too long for Aves to send off two different groups. One of them was the ysalamiri-knowledgeable group that the Empire had been promised. The other group was a faux _Falcon_-hunting party with instructions to rendezvous in a different system to await further orders. Now, Aves was standing by his superior, waiting for the man to say something.

When Karrde finally spoke, he did so with a heavy sadness. "I want everyone ready—or nearly ready—to leave by the time the ysalamiri group returns."

"Sir?" Aves queried, blinking in surprise.

"The Grand Admiral is smart," the smuggler chief said, resting his hand on his bearded chin in thought. "Even if he does believe our story, his eyes are going to be trained too carefully on us for us to get much done. Besides, our base is no longer a secret. We've been here long enough."

"All right," the other man said resignedly. "I'll start the evacuation."

It really was a shame. Karrde had enjoyed his time on Myrkr, and he knew his pet vornskrs would miss the planet's forests. There was no place he would rather have his base. Something about it had really appealed to him.

"Make sure our preparations aren't too obvious," Karrde said, almost absentmindedly. "It wouldn't do to attract even more of their attention."

"Maybe the metallic content of the trees will scramble whatever their sensors pick up," Aves said hopefully.

"Maybe. Still, better to be safe."

****

Leia didn't know how he did it. Despite all her attempts to remain in a group of three or more, Han managed to get her alone in the portside corridor.

It wasn't that she was expecting unwanted pity from him. In fact, she wasn't quite sure _why _she didn't want to be alone with him. But he had somehow brought it about, and so she was stuck with it.

They stood there for several awkward moments without saying anything.

"I'm not even going to be a real Jedi," Leia said at last, knowing she didn't really have a choice but to say _something_. She didn't want to talk about Nial—not when she wasn't sure what was going to happen. "And they know it...They know that I want to be a politician. But somehow, I've made them all scared." The princess looked down at her hands. "I guess I'm scared, too."

Han tilted his head and gazed at her gently. "Why are you scared, Princess? You've never really seemed scared to me."

She gave him a small smile without any mirth in it. "I'm scared because they're right. I need to learn to control my anger—I could end up hurting someone some day if I don't...Then I'll be just like _them_."

Han didn't ask who she meant by "_them,_" though he had a few suspicions concerning some usually black-clad individuals.

After a long pause, Leia let out a bitter chuckle. "You know, it's funny...When acting as a politician, I'm skilled at hiding my emotions—but for some reason, outside political maneuvering, I can't even _control_ my emotions, much less hide them."

"Sweetheart, I think you're taking those Jedi a little too seriously." When Leia looked like she was about to protest, Han held up a hand. "I mean, yeah, they know a lot about what they're talking about. But they don't really try to see the human side—they shouldn't expect people not to _feel_...If you don't feel, then you're not human."

The young woman took a few moments to respond, though she refused to meet his eyes. "I guess you're right."

Han stepped closer to her. He put his hand under her chin and brought her head up so that her eyes could meet with his. "Your Highnessness, you _know_ I'm right."

Leia began to pull back, but after seeing the challenge in the smuggler's eyes, she knew she couldn't. "It's the first time you are," she whispered, flushing.

"You're trembling," he told her, staring into her eyes.

"No, I'm not," she replied softly, though she didn't sound convinced.

Han began drawing closer to her. "You've been around too much royalty, princess..."

"Better royalty than a scoundrel," she replies, breathless.

"Scoundrel?" the smuggler laughed. "Well, maybe you need more scoundrels in your life..."

"I do not," Leia declared weakly, backing away slightly.

But Han was moving faster. "Sure you do, Your Worship. You need a scoundrel just like me..."

Whatever protest Leia was about to throw at the smuggler died as he placed his lips on hers. She felt the urge to simultaneously push forward and pull back, and just as she was about to lose all cognition, she heard:

"No, you see, that dialect is actually accented by its underlying supersonic clicks, which of course means that humans are incapable of hearing it and thus miss the distinction entirely."

Threepio.

Pulling away from Han, Leia stared at the droid and his companion—Luke's droid—unsure of whether to curse them or praise them.

"Greetings," Luke's droid offered, looking just as clueless and innocent as Threepio.

Leia fled.

****

He looked down at his mechanical hand, shifting it around contemplatively. As a Tusken, if he had lost a limb, there would be no replacing it.

As both machine and man, he wasn't sure if he could truly fit with the group he was with. He was different from all of them...Well—all of them except his father.

The former Sith Lord was part machine, too. It was possible to sense it through the Force—to feel the strange emptiness where some of the man's limbs should be.

It was the same thing he felt when he tried to touch his own hand with his Force sense.

But there wasn't just an emptiness in his hand—there was an emptiness in his spirit, too. The jubba bird had made him realize how much he wanted friends, how much he wanted to share in the joys and sorrows of others. He didn't think he wanted to be alone any more.

He...cared about these people, as he had cared for his Tusken guardians and Vrentlla.

When he sensed a concerned Obi-Wan walk toward him, he didn't look at him. He knew that Obi-Wan could feel his increased awareness. The main hold made a lousy hiding place anyway—especially since Chewbacca often felt the urge to play dejarik and was always ready to drag someone else into a game. He was sitting in front of the dejarik table now, though playing games was nowhere near the forefront of his mind.

Obi-Wan sat beside him quietly, waiting for him to speak.

"It's...weird not to know who you are—who you're going to be," he said at last. "As a Tusken, I always knew what was coming...Now, I don't know what to expect, what to do..." He clenched his mechanical hand. "Does it ever get easier? Do you know what I should expect?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot answer your questions," the Jedi told him quietly. "But remember that Tuskens cannot play among the stars—they cannot expose themselves and their emotions at will...A Tusken Raider does not know true trust."

"Trust..." the youth echoed the word.

"Trust is depending on others for strength and support—trust shows that you are never alone. I believe you are capable of trust...I believe you are a Skywalker. But _you _must decide for yourself who you are and what you believe. Can you trust others? ..._Will_ you trust others?"

He nodded, and Obi-Wan left him to his thoughts. He was just about to set his head on the table when an image of a mane of red hair popped into his mind unbidden.

He missed Mara.

****

Anakin had been avoiding the ysalamir's Force-less bubble like a profogg which knew a womp rat was nearby. He had tried a few times to convince himself to stand near the creature for a brief amount of time, but he hadn't succeeded in forcing himself to do so. Finally, however, he decided that he wouldn't let a furry lizard frighten him, and he walked toward the back of the ship, leaving the crew quarters and passing a disgruntled-looking Han on the way. He thought about stopping to inquire, didn't, and finally found himself entrapped in a Force-free field.

He took in a deep breath, trying to extinguish the panic he felt on having all his senses dampened. He had handled the feeling on Myrkr, and he could handle it now.

The ysalamir looked at him blankly. The bubble was a defense mechanism, and Anakin knew the creature didn't really know anything about the field's effect on him. Still, he couldn't help but growl, "Enjoying this, are you?"

The lizard simply continued to stare.

Anakin leaned against the wall, feeling briefly surprised that his frustration hadn't been fed by the Force. Yoda was right, he realized. The intensity of his anger was bound to his connection with the Force—the Dark Side made his anger greater, which in turn caused the Dark Side to flare up. Living without the Force for a time would enable him to control his emotions more easily. He reached out to touch the creature which had been the target of his anger moments before and smiled.

"Thank you."

****

Upon feeling the _Millennium Falcon_ land, Leia felt her heart leap into her throat. They were on Yavin IV—she would be able to see Nial!

She was the first one down the landing ramp, and her eyes searched quickly around before finally setting on her father and her cousin. "Nial," she exclaimed joyfully, giving the young man a quick hug and then pulling back, "it's so good to—" But the rest of the words were lost somewhere in her throat.

Nial's eyes were so much colder than Leia remembered. There was a cynicism in them that shouldn't have ever been put there. Nial was the type meant to jest and laugh and exhibit passion—not the type to rival Hoth with his iciness. He had changed.

"I am glad to see you, too, cousin," Nial said emotionlessly. But for a moment, Leia could've sworn she saw a hint of warmth break through the glaciers that were his eyes. If she had seen anything, though, it was quickly gone.

"How did you survive?" Leia queried after she gained her composure. It was a rough question to ask, but she wanted to know.

"Does it matter, cousin?" Nial returned. "I am here now."

_Are you really?_ Leia wondered to herself uneasily. This was not the boy she had once known. But what else could she have expected?

"Leia," Bail smiled. He didn't seem to notice Nial's odd behavior.

"Father," the princess greeted, hugging him. "I'm so glad to be back." She turned and sent the warmest smile toward Nial that she could. The young man hesitated a moment before sending a smile back. But the smile was as cold as he was, and it simply made Leia feel worse.

****

Though Opakwa had tried to catch him a few times to discuss a few human customs, he had managed to avoid the silver droid. His father, however, had followed him quietly through the Massassi temple.

He had stopped moving briefly when his father had brought the ysalamir backpack near. It felt so strange to be covered again in a Force-less field. He had really grown accustomed to the Force's presence, using it almost constantly, if subconsciously.

Now that there was an ysalamir close at hand, he couldn't stretch out to sense the feelings of people around him. Instead, he had to rely on his eyes and ears, and he still wasn't that skilled at reading human emotion. Thinking of his dependence on the Force made him a little uneasy, as it pushed questions to the forefront which he would rather hold off on dealing with.

"I want...to find Biggs and Wedge," he told his father slowly.

Anakin hesitated for a moment before nodding, looking a little forlorn. "I understand. I will leave with the ysalamir." He turned to go but felt a light touch at his back. He turned around to look at his son.

"I want to pilot," the boy explained. "You can pilot, too...I just need to find them...with the Force."

The former Sith Lord gave a tentative smile. "I see. Then I shall remove the ysalamir from your presence long enough for you to locate them."

He smiled back, feeling a strange warmness inside. "Thanks."

****

**Author's Note:**** The Pellaeon/Karrde conversation was inspired by a similar conversation in chapter three of ****Heir to the Empire****. The conversation is not word-for-word but is in some places very similar. The idea of Mara shooting off-planet after an escaped Luke was also borrowed from Zahn, though I altered it a bit.**


	9. Bending

Wedge crossed his arms and shook his head, incredulous disbelief plastered all over his face. Darth Vader _really_ wanted to participate in a mock dogfight with them? Did he think they were _insane_? The last thing in the galaxy Wedge and Biggs would want was to agree to serve as sitting ducks for a Sith Lord's trigger-happy fingers.

Vader seemed to sense what the problem was, and he looked strangely crestfallen. "If you do not wish to fly against me, I will not force you to do so."

"What about the simulator room?" Luke suggested. "They don't have to be real fighters."

Biggs and Wedge turned to each other with skeptical expressions.

Luke looked at Vader. "I think they're scared."

"Hold—hold on just a minute," Biggs sputtered, waving his arms in the air. "Who said anything about being scared?"

"You are scared we will defeat you," the younger man answered solemnly. "And you are probably right."

"There's no way the two of you would be able to make a dent in the ships of Rogue Squadron's finest," Wedge declared boldly. "We just don't want you two to feel bad for losing so terribly."

Vader turned to Luke. "That sounds like a challenge."

Luke grinned. "Then let's kick some womprat tail."

Everybody laughed, and Biggs clapped a hand on Luke's shoulder. "It appears we're teaching you something after all."

Luke just grinned even more.

****

When Luke and Vader won the first battle, Biggs and Wedge had declared that it was a fluke. After the second time it happened, the two Rebel pilots had called it luck. After the third time, they were marveling that Vader hadn't simply gone and shot down half the Rebellion himself.

"Where in space did you two get this talent?" Biggs exclaimed into his voicepiece in frustrated wonder after his third loss.

"Oh, like father li—" Vader began in good humor, only to cut off abruptly. His mood seemed to have darkened as he amended, "Our skill is natural."

Wedge frowned at the console in front of him. His "suspicious behavior" radar was going off.

"Your father have this talent?" Biggs queried coolly. Apparently, he'd felt something, too.

The Sith Lord paused for a moment before answering. "I did not...have a father."

_His father skipped out on him, huh? _Wedge filed that information in the back of his brain. It could help explain a few things. Kid's father leaves, kid becomes murderous tyrant. Somehow, not even putting it that way made the Sith Lord's killing tendencies seem any more excusable.

"But you got the talent from him, right?" Biggs pressed.

"I did not have a father," the Sith Lord repeated quietly.

"If you didn't have one, then why did you mention your father?" Wedge asked, trying to sound offhanded.

"I was not mentioning my father." The Sith Lord's voice sounded a little shaky to Wedge.

Biggs continued the questioning: "Then who were you talking about?"

"He was talking about my father," Luke finally interjected.

"He knew your father?" Wedge didn't bother hiding his surprise. Was _that _how this odd pair had ended up together?

Vader responded before Luke did: "You could say that."

Biggs made an interested noise. "Your father serve in the Empire, Luke?"

"Why do you want to know?" the Sith Lord again spoke before Luke could. There was a hint of anger in Vader's voice this time.

_Back off now, Biggs_, Wedge thought. _The fatherless wonder seems to be getting angry._ "We were just curious," he said in a voice that attempted to be soothing. "It doesn't matter."

Luke prevented Vader from speaking this time, saying quickly, "I _don't_ mind."

Somehow, Wedge knew Luke's statement wasn't directed toward him or Biggs. It was directed toward Vader.

Puzzled, Wedge waited to hear more, but for a short period of time, there was just silence.

****

Anakin cursed the ysalamir nestled cozily in its cage-backpack on the ground by his simulator. Without the creature's inhibiting presence, he would be able to communicate with Luke through the Force. As it was, his choice was either to drag his son from the room or bite the blaster bolt and finish the conversation.

"You _should_ mind, Luke," he stated at last. _Stars_, his son should mind. Thousands of beings in the galaxy would have minded. Why not him, too?

"I was an outcast for years," Luke said softly, "I am...accustomed to others' opinions."

"Do not do this to yourself, Luke," Anakin nearly pleaded. "You do not need this." He knew it wasn't possible for his son to have a normal life, but the boy didn't need to potentially ruin the life that he had by revealing information that could easily be kept secret.

"I want this," Luke told him. "I want to trust my—my friends."

****

Biggs wasn't sure what in the blazes Luke and Vader were talking about, so he simply sat stroking his mustache and hoping he would be able to find out something soon. He wasn't disappointed.

Vader's tone was dark. "Antilles, Darklighter—you are sworn to secrecy."

Biggs wondered if Wedge was as blazing confused as he was, but like his friend, Biggs quickly agreed to the Sith Lord's request: "All right, sure."

Truth be told, he was quite intrigued. A secret from Darth Vader was bound to be of the utmost interest.

"My father did work in the Empire," Luke's voice said over Biggs' headset, "but he doesn't any longer."

"What does he do now?" Biggs queried.

"He is...trying to hold on to the Light in himself."

Biggs crossed his arms while trying to process that. Luke could be strange sometimes, and right now, he didn't seem to be making a lot of sense.

"He does not want to be seen for...a monster. He wants...he wants to atone."

"Atone for what?" Wedge pushed. He seemed to be feeling just as impatient as Biggs was.

Luke responded quietly, "For the things he did as...Darth Vader."

****

Wedge Antilles had heard the expression "it made my heart stop" several times and thought of it as an exaggeration with no real basis in reality. Now, however, the words "my heart just stopped—did I just hear what I thought I did?" kept running through his mind over and over.

"Wedge?" he heard Biggs' pitifully small voice.

"I know," the other Rogue pilot responded, his mouth dry. There didn't seem to be much else that they _could_ say.

"He was raised by Tusken Raiders," Vader was saying quickly, as if trying to make sure Luke wasn't tainted by the sins of his father in their eyes, "not by me. I found him when he was a teenager. He had just defeated a krayt dragon."

Wedge briefly set aside the first surprise for the second one. "You killed a krayt dragon by yourself, Luke?" He was impressed. He'd heard tales of the great beasts, and he knew that killing one was no easy feat.

"I used the Force," Luke responded modestly.

"But he was untrained," Vader noted, a hint of pride just barely evident in his voice. "So he could not rely heavily on it."

"So, you're both Force-using pilots? Got any other talents up your sleeves?" Wedge was trying to hide his shock by jesting. _Vader's blood,_ he cursed to himself. Then he paused. _Luke is...Vader's blood._ He let loose a bark of laughter. And then—

_Vader turned because of Luke,_ Wedge realized with a startling clarity. A few minutes ago, he hadn't understood their relationship at all. They had seemed so incredibly different that their association was a complete mystery. But now, suddenly, strangely, he saw it. Vader's pride in the youth, his worry, his possessiveness—it all meant somehow the simple Luke Skywalker had cracked Vader's hard, plastic, black-painted shell. And it seemed to have occurred just in time, too—much longer, and the Death Star would have probably begun obliterating planets. The destruction of the Rebel Alliance would have followed close behind, and then where would the galaxy be?

And somehow now, instead of being killed by Imperial forces, Wedge was playing sim games with someone who once was one of every Rebel's greatest enemies—oh, and playing, too, apparently, with his _son_.

"Destroying talkative fighter pilots is one of my talents," Vader growled in response to Wedge's rhetorical question.

Wedge pretended not to hear him. "So, your real name—"

"—is Anakin Skywalker," Vader finished in a quiet voice. The name seemed to stick to his tongue, as if pronouncing it were somehow a very difficult thing to do.

"Well, Anakin," the name stuck to Wedge's tongue, too—was he really talking to Darth Vader like he would a comrade?—"I think you two stomped us badly enough this time. How about we pick it up again tomorrow?"

The Sith Lord paused before replying with a strange hesitancy: "I shall...look forward to it."

****

After leaving the sim room, Anakin walked quietly with his son down a Massassi corridor for a few minutes before finally speaking. "You did not need to do that."

The boy nodded, continued walking, and then paused as he realized Anakin expected more of a reply. He began speaking slowly—probably because he didn't have the Force to help him talk due to the presence of the ysalamir. "Being alone...is hard. If you do not talk to others—it is even harder. By not speaking to my Tusken family, I...removed myself from them—I—I kept myself away from them...I did not strive for—for equality because...because then I would be expected to try for greatness."

The young man paused, perhaps finding the words. "I could have become the storyteller—I could have been respected above the others. But for the Ghorfa, even being together is being apart. You are expected to—to take a role, to achieve respect which sets you apart from everyone else. I chose to be apart without that respect until...until I went to kill a krayt dragon. I felt ready for a little greatness—for a little bit of togetherness."

Luke made a thoughtful gesture that seemed Tusken in origin. Quietly, he said, "And then you came. And I was apart from them again—and I was not a part of what you were...But there was—was the chance—maybe, maybe I could feel togetherness with you. I felt—something...But part of what sent me away from them also sent me away from you. I felt like a human lost in Beggar's Canyon without food or water. The wind was howling—and I couldn't find someone who had what I needed." He met the eyes of his father. "But then I started to find it. I didn't realize it at first. And now, when I see it close, I want—I want to move toward it. I've almost always been alone—but now I see people who can be my friends—who I can experience togetherness with."

He trained his wide blue eyes on Anakin, who sharply took in a breath on seeing a hint of Padmé in them. "If I lose respect, I don't care," the boy said softly. "Greatness isn't important. Togetherness is."

"But remember, Luke, you can't always be together with people," the former Sith Lord finally spoke, though he did so hoarsely. "Sometimes, you are torn apart from the ones you love. Don't let the separateness—or the possibility of separateness—consume you. Love can be great...but it can also be destructive." No one knew that better than him.

Luke looked at him, but he said no more, so finally the two started walking again, each lost in his own thoughts.

****

"Father, has Nial's behavior seemed strange to you?"

Leia was walking beside her father. She had sought him out to speak with him, but unfortunately he was on his way to a meeting.

"Nonsense, Leia," he said with a smile, shrugging off her concerns. "Nial is fine. There is no need to worry. Just be glad that he has returned! He has been away for far too long—it will take him a while to warm back up. Just give him time." He had been elated lately over Nial's reappearance, and he seemed to be actively fighting against any appearance of negativity.

"Father—" she tried, but Bail shook his head at her, the hint of frustration creeping into his bearing. She knew she shouldn't take up any more of his time, so she simply said to him, "Good luck with your meeting."

"Thanks, Leia," he said warmly, picking up his pace and glancing down at the datapad in his hand.

She stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared down at the floor, listening as her father's footsteps retreated rhythmically from her. She knew what to do.

She would go find Nial.

****

"You seem unusually happy."

Anakin stopped walking and turned around to look at the smiling face of Obi-Wan. Somehow, he had moved right past the Jedi without noticing the older man's presence. He stepped a little closer to Obi-Wan, his boots clicking gently against the ferrocrete beneath them. Anakin had parted ways with his son moments before, and the thought that maybe Obi-Wan had been waiting for him to do so flicked briefly across his mind.

"I...I suppose I am." It was a startling admission for Anakin, who remembered that he had begun believing long ago that he was no longer capable of happiness.

"Amazing, isn't it, how many emotions a son can make you feel?" the Jedi commented with a warm smile.

Anakin knew there were layers of meaning in the statement—he had been like a son to Obi-Wan...And Obi-Wan had been like the father he had never had. "It is," he replied quietly.

"We had some good times together, didn't we, Anakin?"

"We did," the younger man smiled. "But not everything has changed..." He looked at the Jedi Master with an air of mischievousness. "I am still the superior pilot."

Obi-Wan let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, really? Well, I suppose we must be sure to test that."

"How about we meet in the sim room tomorrow?" Anakin suggested, feeling strangely eager.

The Jedi's eyes were glinting. "I will be sure to be there to let you know that an old man can still occasionally triumph over his supposedly more capable pupil."

"We shall see."

****

When Leia found her cousin, he was sitting alone at a computer console, crying.

At the sound of her approach, he quickly switched the computer screen off, and the quiet sobs she had been hearing disappeared. He turned his head slightly, his face still hidden to her as he waited to hear what she had to say.

"What did they do to you?" the young woman whispered, her heart throbbing in pain for him.

Somehow, despite the tears he had been shedding, Nial's voice was cold. "You have heard the stories of Kessel, _cousin_. You do not need me to repeat them...Though, of course, what I experienced there was no worse than what my own family did to me."

Stricken, Leia stared at him. "Nial, you know he had no choice—"

"There is always a choice," he snapped, his posture stiffening. "Your father decided his little Rebellion was more important than his family. He is not _any different_ from the Empire."

"He's fighting for the Alliance to help the families of all," Leia countered, feeling a little off-balance.

"He can't know how to help the families of others if he doesn't know how to help his own," her cousin growled.

Leia glared at him. "Nial, you were going to destroy our _family_."

"_No_, Leia. I was going to apply the beliefs I _thought_ our family held. I was going to remove the hypocrisy from the House of Organa once and for all."

"You were going on a one-man suicide mission," she bit out furiously. "You were going to accomplish nothing."

Nial lifted a finger in anger. "It was exactly the sort of mission you're speaking of that brought the Emperor down. Your father had nothing to do with it."

"Your uncle," Leia snarled, "made it possible for the members of that group to be there."

"Will you ever understand, cousin? The House of Organa, with its protocols and political maneuvering, was not the family that brought about Palpatine's demise. It was a brash family willing to do what was needed instead of willing to wait for others to do it." He returned his gaze to the blank screen, his upright posture stiff. She was obviously being dismissed.

Still, she couldn't help but say before leaving, "I miss who you used to be, cousin."

There was no answer. The tears did not return.

****

After Opakwa had finally found and begun lecturing him in a hallway, the former Tusken stood waiting for a few minutes before interrupting the droid with a question: "What is love?"

Opakwa cut off his speech. "Love, young master?"

He nodded.

"Love is a feeling of well-being experienced by two creatures."

"And?" He knew there had to be more. He could _feel _it.

"Love is generally considered one of the most powerful feelings experienced by sentients, and it can make them do strange things…" The droid shook his head. "I wonder, young master, why are you asking?"

"To understand." He wanted to understand humans—to...to be like them. He wanted togetherness.

"I see." Opakwa waited a moment before continuing with his earlier subject: "Now, the etymology of the word 'candidate' is quite interesting—"

But he didn't hear what the droid said. He was lost in his own thoughts.

****

When Han went to the docking bay to check on a strange noise the _Falcon_'s hyperdrive had been making, he found Leia sitting on a storage container outside his ship. Her head was in her hands, and she did not seem to notice his approach.

He stood in front of her, giving her a few seconds before he finally cleared his throat.

She stiffened but did not look up.

He moved closer to place a hand on her back and abruptly realized she was crying. His heart went out to her.

"Leia," he said quietly, sitting down beside her. He didn't quite know what to say, and helplessness rested very uneasily with him.

"He couldn't stop him," the princess blurted out. "There was nothing else for him to do. He had no other choice."

"Hey, hey," Han said quietly, resting a hand on her knee. "Slow down...What are you talking about?"

"What was my father supposed to do? What choice did he have? Once his mind was made up, Nial would go after whatever he wanted...Not even physical force would have stopped him...He couldn't _do _anything else."

"Leia," Han said gently, "the choice was made, all right? There's nothing else _you_ can do...Give your cousin a little time—surely he'll come around."

"But what if he doesn't, Han?" She finally looked up, her face stained with bitter tears. "What if my cousin never comes back? It hurts me to see him like this."

Han put his arm around her, pulling her to him. She didn't protest—she simply collapsed into his arms and began sobbing. "You can't make a person change," he told her honestly. "That's something he's gonna have to do himself."

She took in a haggard breath before pleading in desperation, "Please, Han, just hold me."

Han did so, saying no more.

****

He turned around, surprise easily evident in his voice. "Ah! I was about to come looking for you—"

After a second or two of silence, a shot rang out in the room. There was a hollow thud, and then a few moments later, a whisper ("I'm sorry") preceded one last shot. Something clattered against the floor briefly, resounding throughout the room.

Then Silence took hold of the room with thick, cold hands, and all noises ceased.


	10. Moving

The next day, Anakin and Obi-Wan were eagerly joined in the sim room by Luke, whom they had invited knowing how much he enjoyed piloting.

"At least in a sim your reckless stunts won't come close to getting you killed," Obi-Wan commented amusedly to Anakin, who as a young man had pulled more reckless maneuvers than Obi-Wan believed himself capable of counting.

"I seem to remember a certain Jedi Master performing a few reckless stunts of his own," the other returned good-naturedly.

"Is talking all you humans do?" Luke inserted, the impatience in his voice probably inspired by too much time with Biggs and Wedge. "What about action?"

The two older Force users were quick to comply, bringing the guns of their simulated ships to bear on Luke, who easily dodged their blasts and let out a chuckle of triumph.

"A bit more difficult than I remember," Obi-Wan commented after a few minutes of failing to hit Luke's quickly maneuvering simulated ship.

Anakin smiled. "A bit more difficult without the Force, you mean." It was certainly more difficult for _him_ with the ysalamir present than it had been in his TIE without the creature—still, it seemed to be doing its job in dampening his anger. His sim shuddered as his fighter was hit—such was the price of allowing himself to be distracted.

"I will get you yet, Luke," he laughed. The boy certainly did take after him in piloting ability, he thought with pride.

****

He wasn't supposed to be dead.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He was supposed to be leading the Alliance. He was supposed to be reprimanding her for the reckless things she was doing. He was supposed to be smiling at her and telling her how much she looked like her mother.

He had loved life, promoted it, protected it. He had been so healthy and full of vitality—he was supposed to live for several more decades and spoil his future grandchildren. Death wasn't due to visit him this soon.

A numbness had spread throughout Leia's body. She didn't see the grim messenger who had come to deliver the bad news. She didn't feel Han's arms around her. She didn't hear his consoling words. All she could see was her father's lifeless face.

And then it all faded into black.

****

The sim games were cut short by Threepio's appearance and flustered explanation of the misfortunate event that had transpired. The talkative droid wasn't even allowed to finish speaking before Anakin fled the room with Obi-Wan and Luke.

Though he bore the ysalamir backpack, the former Sith Lord felt a strangely cool fire spreading throughout his body, touching him with its familiar tendrils of anger. Curse that _blasted_ boy. This was the last thing Leia needed.

If the boy hadn't already killed himself, Anakin would be saving him the trouble. Bail was the one source of stability in Leia's life—_he_ had performed the duty Anakin had been unable to. And now Bail—the young woman's true father, for Anakin could not fill that role—was gone, killed during the Rebel Alliance's most triumphant time, a time when at last his diplomatic skills could be used in full to fulfill a desperate need.

When Threepio finally led them to the room where Leia and Han were, they brushed by several faces wracked with concern and grief, two of which Anakin recognized as belonging to Mon Mothma and Garm Bel Iblis. Chewbacca was standing at the door performing crowd control, and few people seemed inclined to attempt to move past him.

They rushed into the room to find Leia unconscious on the floor with Han kneeling beside her. The smuggler looked more worried than Anakin had ever seen him.

"She passed out," Han stated quietly in explanation, though it was obvious what had happened. "We moved her here...Krethin' boy shouldn't have done that." His thoughts seemed to be paralleling Anakin's.

Obi-Wan looked a little shaken himself, but he ventured, "The boy was confused...Bail had to make a difficult decision Nial could never understand."

"You don't kill someone in cold blood," Han declared as he stood, his brow furrowed in anger. "Doesn't matter how confused you are."

Anakin felt his own rage building, but it was doing so slowly—without the Dark Side to enhance it, his anger lacked its former strength.

"Anakin," his master said softly. "Let go of your anger. It will bring you nothing."

It was much easier for Obi-Wan to give the advice than it was for Anakin to take it. He felt a burning hatred for the boy—how could he have killed one of his own family members?

But he also felt a hatred that was directed toward himself. How could _he_ have killed Padmé?

Anakin stared down at Leia, remembering how he had felt when his mother had died at the hands of the Tuskens.

****

"Our contact says the songbird is crushed, sir," Pellaeon said quietly. He was speaking at the bridge, a rather public area, but his vagueness should ensure that none of the nearby officers would know what he was talking about even if they could hear him.

"Indeed," his superior replied simply, his red eyes glinting in satisfaction.

****

Leia was sitting alone in her room, staring blankly at the wall. They had finally left her alone, trying to give her some space. But she didn't need space. She needed her father back. That was all she wanted.

When Anakin came to her door, she called for him to enter. She didn't know why she let him come in. She certainly _knew_ it was him, for he was the only one constantly followed by a Forceless bubble. Perhaps she let him come in because she knew she shouldn't be reaching for the Force to strengthen her emotions and she wanted the ysalamir to break her away from that blasted energy field. Or perhaps it was something else. But whatever it was, she asked him to enter the room.

He seemed just as unsure as she was, standing in front of the doorway awkwardly for a few moments before he finally spoke. "It may not matter, but I know how you feel."

Leia didn't move. She simply queried sotto voce, "How could you possibly know how I feel?"

He remained silent for several moments, and she began to wonder if he would simply leave and save them both the heartache, but he suddenly broke the quiet with a story which was told in a voice of pain and sorrow. "My mother was killed when I was around your age. She was...tortured by Tusken Raiders, and she died in my arms. I was angry...Angry at the Tuskens, angry at myself. After all, I had left her behind on Tatooine, and I had returned too late to save her. I killed everyone in the Tusken tribe—men, women, _children_—without a second thought. I allowed my hatred to consume me. I—do not make my mistakes, Leia." He released a soft sigh, closing his eyes. "Do not let anger take over your life...Remember the love that you held for your father and your cousin—remember that your cousin went through something no man should go through...Find forgiveness in your heart where I could not."

_But how?_ Leia wanted to cry out. _How can I forgive him for succeeding where the Empire failed? How can I forgive the fact that he destroyed the man who loved him unconditionally all his life?_

Instead, she said nothing.

After a few minutes of silence, the former Sith Lord spoke uneasily. Strange, how she could make him, once one of the most feared men in the galaxy, ill at ease.

"Your cousin left behind a datacard with cryptic instruct—"

Leia interrupted, a hint of sorrowful eagerness in her voice, "Did he say anything about why he did it?"

Anakin shook his head. "No. He simply left us bare instructions. Obi-Wan is looking at the information right now and requested that I retrieve you."

His daughter stood up resolutely, swathing herself in a no-nonsense attitude. "Let's go, then."

****

_Go to the planet with two bright orbs glaring down on a barren landscape. Look for the Skinwalker._

That was all the datacard said. Anakin hadn't been lying when he had called the instructions "bare."

Leia frowned in contemplation, trying to add any kind of significance to the two sentences. What exactly could it mean?

"I do not like this resemblance to your name," Obi-Wan said at last, looking at Anakin.

"It could be a coincidence," the latter man suggested.

"Not likely," Han inserted, shaking his head with an uneasy grimness. "I don't like the looks of this at all."

"I'm going to check it out," Leia said firmly. Her eyes were red, and her hair was a mess—it didn't take a Jedi to know she was still heartbroken over the death of her father and her cousin. But the resolve in her eyes was strong.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Leia, I think you should stay for your father's funeral and then return to Dagobah. _We'll_ go to—"

"No!" Leia cried out. "Father would have wanted me to follow my cousin's last wishes."

"Your Worship, these are not your cousin's last wishes," Han said, gently lifting up her chin and meeting her eyes. "These are the wishes of a madman."

****

Chinnatah watched the smuggler's movements with interest, somehow feeling that there was a strange tenderness present. Could this be part of human courtship? Or was this merely the way friends expressed themselves?

Leia seemed to be trying to ignore the gesture. She began to speak but cut off as Mon Mothma walked in.

The older woman's eyes were just as red as Leia's were. "Leia, I wanted to tell you again—I'm sorry for your loss."

****

"I'm sorry for your loss."

The words were sincere, but they seemed flat to Leia somehow.

The princess bit her lip and looked down at the floor with a nod of acknowledgment. She felt as if she were equal parts rage and sadness—Anakin's words of warning were resounding in her head, but she couldn't put them into practice. She was in too much pain.

"I am sorry, Leia...But you need to be strong during this time," the red-haired woman continued. "The Alliance needs your strength—others are hurting, too."

"I can't even hold myself together," Leia laughed bitterly. "How can I be strong for others?"

"Leia, you are a pillar of strength," Mon Mothma said quietly. "You always have been...In fact, Garm and I think you should take your father's place—provided you are voted in, of course."

"What?" Leia couldn't keep the word from slipping out any more than she could hide her incredulity.

"We need someone to take up your father's leadership...You will be welcomed by Alliance members as the proper person to do so. Your father has been grooming you to take his place for a long time—now is the time for you to make him proud. I think it's what he would have wanted."

The young woman looked from Mon Mothma to Obi-Wan, torn in so many ways. She wanted to avenge her father's death—but couldn't. Going to Tatooine wouldn't change anything. Becoming a full-fledged Jedi would make Obi-Wan happy, but what did _she_ think she needed?

"It is your choice," Obi-Wan said gently. She knew he would not stop her from staying. He might be disappointed if she never returned to Dagobah, but he would not try to convince her that her decision was wrong. He wanted her to make her own choices.

"I'll—I'll stay," Leia whispered at last. The decision was hard to make, but she was doing what she felt was right. It felt as if a part of her life were finally clicking into place.

"Me and Chewie will stay with you," Han offered before realizing what he was saying. Quickly, he added gruffly, "For a little while, at least."

Obi-Wan nodded, a slight sadness evident in his bearing. "I think the droids should stay as well. They may be able to help you."

"I've already talked to Winter," Mon Mothma told Leia kindly. "She is eager to serve as your aide."

Obi-Wan spread his hands. "We should leave early tomorrow morning. We would stay for Bail's funeral, Leia, but—"

"I understand," Leia replied quietly. "You need to find this Skinwalker before he disappears."

The Jedi nodded, hesitating a moment before moving to embrace her. "I think...your father would be proud."

The words cost him, Leia knew—she knew he felt he should give her a lecture on the importance of becoming a Jedi, yet he refrained for her sake...and for the sake of her father.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," she whispered.

****

After they left the room, Chinnatah followed Obi-Wan.

"What is it, Luke?" the Jedi queried, throwing a glance over at him as he continued walking.

"I was—" the youth stopped for a few seconds and then started again, "—I was...wondering if Biggs and Wedge could come with us?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "It could be dangerous. They would be better off staying here. There is little of interest to them there."

The young man nodded, seemingly in acquiescence. A few moments later, however, he tried one more time: "One of—Biggs is from Tatooine."

That caused Obi-Wan to pause in curiosity. "He is? Do you think he might have heard of this Skinwalker?"

"I don't know," the other replied honestly. He was glad to have caught Obi-Wan's interest in the idea. He didn't like the thought of being forced to separate from his friends—separation always seemed to bring about bad things.

Obi-Wan rubbed his beard in thought. "Well, I suppose it cannot hurt to talk to him."

****

"I can never take his place," Leia said nervously, pacing the room. It was an hour before the emergency election meeting, and Han was pretty sure the young woman had nearly worn a hole in the ferrocrete floor.

"Take it easy, Leia," Han said, placing his hands on her shoulders and stopping her anxious movements. He looked her straight in the face. "They are going to bow down at your feet, princess."

Leia shook her head, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey," the smuggler said gently, placing a hand under her chin to lift her head. He knew she was hurting. He could see it in her stance, in her eyes...But he also knew that Mothma had instilled a glimmer of hope into her—hope that maybe she _could_ fulfill her father's role.

"You're not going to be alone up there," he said reassuringly. "After all, there'll be a few nerf-herders silently cheering you on." He gave her his lopsided grin, bringing a hesitant smile to her face.

"Thank you, Han," she whispered, staring into his eyes. She shivered visibly.

"You're welcome, Your Worship," Han replied, moving his face closer to hers and pressing his hand on her arm.

Tilting her head and closing her eyes, Leia whispered, "Han—for once, just stop talking and kiss me."

"Your wish is my command," he smiled, meeting her mouth with his own.

This time, there were no droids nearby to interrupt their bliss.

****

When Luke and Obi-Wan found Wedge and Biggs, they discovered that the two pilots were nursing some suspicious-looking glasses and laughing a little bit more than was really necessary.

"Hey, Luke!" Biggs greeted in a half-yell. Wedge tried to shush him but then burst out into laughter again.

"Hey, Biggs," the former Tusken returned.

"What's up?" Wedge queried, only a slight slur audible.

"We—we were just talking about Tatooine," Luke explained hesitantly.

Biggs sobered up at the planet's name—they probably hadn't drank enough to be intoxicated, anyway. "Really? Why would you be talking about that dustball?"

"We need to go there for somewhat complicated reasons," Obi-Wan explained vaguely. "Luke tells me that you are from Tatooine."

"Yep. I used to live there with my guardians. My real parents were—well..." Biggs trailed off awkwardly.

"I lived briefly on Tatooine myself," Obi-Wan stated, volunteering the information without knowing why. The Force kept prodding at him, so he queried, "What are the names of your guardians?"

"Owen and Beru Lars," Biggs answered.

Obi-Wan felt his heart leap, and a strange thought—_Is this what Luke would have been like if he had been raised by the Lars instead of Tusken Raiders?_—passed through his mind. "I knew them," the Jedi said with thoughtful quietness.

The dark-mustached man shifted guiltily. "I haven't seen them in a while...I left them a message saying I would try to come visit sometime...But I, uh, haven't yet."

Obi-Wan felt his own share of guilt in regard to the Lars. It was his fault that their first adopted child had been taken away from them...

"Perhaps you should go with us to visit them," he heard himself suggesting. Instantly, he wanted to retract the idea, but Biggs seemed to be agreeing with it.

"Yeah, you're probably right," the dark-haired man said.

"I could go with you," Wedge suggested cheerfully.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It could be dangerous. Besides, the Alliance needs pilots like you who are ready to jump into battle at a moment's notice. Taking away your friend could already be a strain on the Alliance..."

"Dangerous?" Biggs perked up, looking excited. Wedge merely looked sour at the thought of being left out.

Obi-Wan nodded. "We are looking for a man called the Skinwalker...Have you heard anything about him?"

Biggs shook his head. "I haven't, but Beru or Owen might have."

"I thought as much. But you are right—perhaps they know of something that could help us." The Jedi Master looked at Luke. "We should probably clear our departure with someone in the higher command. Certainly, we're going to need a ship to take since Captain Solo is staying here."

"Well," Wedge said reluctantly, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

Obi-Wan smiled at him. "Thank you."

"Come on, Wedge," Biggs mussed his friend's hair, "you know _someone_'s gotta keep the rest of the Rogues in line."

Wedge grinned. "Well, it sure in space couldn't be you. You can never even walk a straight line, much less keep anyone else from crossing it."

"You wound me!" Biggs exclaimed, dramatically putting his hand over his heart as he stood. "But don't worry—I won't hold a grudge. I'll be sure to bring back a few vials of sand for you as a souvenir."

Obi-Wan noted the amused twinkle in Luke's eyes as he surveyed the pilot pair's interactions. Yes, perhaps it was good to bring one of them along. Though they may not encourage Jedi-like behavior, at least they could help teach the former Tusken what it was to be human.

****

Leia won by a nearly unanimous vote, taking over her father's position in the Triad. The vote probably _would_ have been unanimous had not the ambitious Bothan Borsk Fey'la decided to stir up some dissent. Leia's victory felt somewhat hollow to her, though—no number of votes could relieve the ache she felt over her father's death, and she felt wrong celebrating anything at such a time.

After receiving great applause at her acceptance speech and talking with several politicians, Leia managed to escape the meeting. Winter, however, was close behind her.

"Leia," she said gently, walking beside the princess. "I hate to cast a shadow over your day, but...we need to discuss funeral arrangements."

The brown-haired woman nodded after inhaling deeply. "I know."

"I think that...he would want his funeral to be here. I am sure Alderaan will understand."

"You're right, Winter," Leia said softly. "I think he would be honored."

****

Knowing that Leia was busy, Obi-Wan went to Mon Mothma to ask for access to a ship. After he delicately explained their situation, she smiled. "How could I refuse to help the group that helped bring down Palpatine, much less such an esteemed Jedi as yourself? As a matter of fact, we have an available _Lambda_-class Imperial shuttle which we received upon Vade—Anakin's defection."

"That would be suitable. Thank you."

"You are welcome," Mon Mothma told him quietly. She studied him for a moment before talking again. "I was wondering something, Master Kenobi..."

"Yes?"

"Do you intend to help the Jedi rise again?" She watched him closely.

He hesitated. "I hope that the Jedi will rise again, but as you know, we are few in number...Leia has made the choice not to become a Jedi, and I cannot go searching the galaxy for candidates...My last hopes lie in Luke."

The wise woman asked carefully, "Do you think he is strong enough to take on the task you wish to entrust him with? Or do you fear that the Dark Side will cause his fall?" She sighed. "I do not wish to be demanding or cruel, but Force users can be very important in deciding the galaxy's fate—as we learned with the Old Republic. If you think this boy will become another Palpatine—if you even believe there is a good chance—then I must demand that you cease his training at once. I trust your loyalties, but I do not know this boy, and I am unsure if I will ever be able to trust Vader. I do _want_ to trust them both, but for the galaxy's sake I must err on the side of caution."

Obi-Wan had watched her solemnly as she spoke, and he replied only when he was certain she was finished. "My judgment is not infallible, of course. No one's is. But I do know that I prefer to err on the side of Light—I think that Anakin is more focused now than he has ever been. He _wants_ to defeat the Dark Side, to embrace the Light...But do not worry, for as a precaution, we have something in place that prevents him from using the Force. We hope it will aid him in his transformation. And as for Luke—I know that I cannot choose Luke's path for him. I cannot force him to become a Jedi, much less make him train Jedi. Perhaps I am being overly hopeful, considering my past errors, but...I do not believe the Dark Side is Luke's biggest threat. I think his problems lie more in seclusion...If he does begin to bring about the rise of the Jedi, he will be in the public eye. I'm sure that's part of what you're thinking about. I want to assure you that he will not be an embarrassment to the Alliance; he will be an asset. He will become one of the Alliance's heroes."

Mon Mothma nodded, offering him a smile. "Then I wish you all the best of luck."

As Obi-Wan began to leave, she called out to him, "Jedi Kenobi...May the Force be with you."

He smiled, dipped his head in farewell, and left.


	11. Reaching

The beeps and whistles Artoo was emitting were quite sad in nature.

"I'm sorry, Artoo," Luke said, sounding sincere.

"It will be too dangerous for you to go with us," Anakin told the droid.

The astromech unit began telling him in no uncertain terms that he had been in danger several times before and had come out just fine.

Anakin smiled. "That may be true, but this time you will stay here, Artoo. After all, someone must keep Threepio out of trouble."

Artoo gave a blat that was decidedly sour in nature. Anakin just shook his head.

"Are you certain you do not need my assistance, young master?" Opakwa asked Luke, sounding worried. "I would not wish for you to fall behind on your studies."

"I will be fine, Opakwa," Luke assured him. He turned and nodded at Threepio, who was standing apart from the group and looking awkward. "Goodbye, Threepio."

"Goodbye, Master Luke," the droid returned, tilting his head. "Please do be safe."

"I'll try," he smiled.

Obi-Wan turned to Leia and told her warmly, "Good luck."

The young woman moved forward and embraced him. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you."

"And with you," the Jedi responded with a smile and a nod.

Han rolled his eyes. "I think a blaster would do you much better than that Force of yours."

A few more goodbyes were said, and then Obi-Wan, Anakin, Luke, and Biggs began walking up the ramp. Leia waved at them—sad to see them leave—while Opakwa continued shouting about the various studies "Master Sun" should continue in.

"Hey, Silvertoes," Han said, looking pointedly at the loud protocol droid.

"Yes, sir?" the droid turned.

"Shut up."

"Oh!" Opakwa exclaimed, not quite knowing how to respond. In helplessness, he turned to the sympathetic Threepio.

"That Captain Solo can be _quite_ rude sometimes," the golden droid stated quietly.

Artoo gave the version of an electronic snort, telling Threepio that he wasn't exactly a bucket of fun himself.

In response, Threepio kicked him. "Be nice, you filthy, tinny twerp," the golden protocol droid huffed.

Artoo blew a raspberry and then started rolling away.

"Come back here, Artoo, I was not done speaking with you!" Threepio hobbled after him.

After a moment of hesitation, Opakwa followed.

Chewie growled something in amusement, and Leia and Han turned to him.

"You're right, Chewie," Han agreed. "How _did _we end up with such a group of crazies?"

"Hey!" Leia exclaimed, gently pushing him away.

The Wookiee whuffed, sounding even more amused.

"Oh, laugh it up, fuzzball," Han said sarcastically. He tilted his head conspiratorially and mock-whispered, "You already know she's in love with me."

"Wha—" Leia was almost too stunned for words. "You—you—you chauvinistic nerf!"

Han grinned at her. "Come on, princess—you remember our little moment in the—ow!"

Leia, who had thrown a nearby tool at him, was now striding away from him and leaving the hangar.

Han looked at his copilot in disbelief, rubbing his head. "What _is it_ with Skywalkers and hitting me with tools?"

The hairy alien laughed and asked in return, [What is it with you and bizarre mating rituals?]

"I do not have—" the smuggler began protesting. He put up a finger, his eyes wide in shock and denial. "—I do _not_ want to—with _that _arrogant—I—you know what, Chewie, just forget it!" He walked off in a huff, leaving his copilot chuckling behind him.

Score one for the Wookiee.

****

When he stepped foot on Tatooine, he found his heart welling up with bitterness and regret. He had never intended to return to Tatooine—it held too many painful memories for him. Yet here he was once again.

Biggs, who was moving down the ramp behind him, seemed to sense his unease or, perhaps, share in it. "Tatooine's not got much going on for it—it's just a barren wasteland full of nooks and crannies and dangerous creatures...I almost died out in one of those caves when I was younger."

"I know," the former Ghorfa said quietly.

The dark-haired pilot furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Chinnatah gave him a small smile. "There was a...Tusken who led you to a cave during a sandstorm..."

"That was _you_?" Biggs gaped in disbelief.

The other lowered his head. "I couldn't let you die."

The pilot couldn't seem to get over his shock. "I thought you were going to _kill_ me..."

"If it had been another Tusken Raider, you probably _would_ have died," Chinnatah said softly. "But I never fit in as a Tusken—I hated to kill, and I avoided it, to the shame of my father."

"Boy, when it comes to fathers, you got it pretty hard," Biggs said, only half-jesting. He quickly sobered, however. "You know, I always wanted to thank you for that day—I didn't think you understood me. I hope you knew I was grateful."

Chinnatah nodded. "I could feel that you were."

"Well, it looks like I owe you one."

"You're helping us with—with my sister. I think we are..." He paused, searching for the correct word.

"Even?" Biggs suggested.

"Yes!" the former Tusken grinned. "Even."

Biggs nodded toward Obi-Wan and Anakin, both of whom were standing close to the Lars homestead and looking at them curiously. "Well, I guess we should go join them."

"All right," Chinnatah responded.

****

While Beru Lars greeted them with open arms, Owen merely gave Biggs a dour stare. "Finally back to see the ones who raised you?" he grunted.

"Oh, Owen, hush," Beru admonished. She hugged Biggs. "It's so great to see you again."

"What in space is that thing?" Owen asked in disgust, pointing at Anakin's ysalamir backpack.

"Nothing harmful," Obi-Wan reassured him.

Beru pulled back from embracing Biggs and looked over at Obi-Wan. "It certainly has been a long time," she said to him quietly.

"It really has, Beru," the Jedi said in a kind voice, though he seemed to be uncomfortable. "While our visit isn't merely for pleasure, I do have some good tidings."

"Really?" Owen queried with raised eyebrow. "I wasn't aware Jedi knew what good tidings were."

Obi-Wan swallowed, though only Anakin saw it. The former Sith knew there were many reasons for the Jedi's discomfort. For one, the clothes Beru and Owen were wearing looked shabby rather than just worn, as if money had been tight. For two, Owen's loss of an arm didn't seem to sit well with him, even after all the years that had passed—he obviously had never been able to afford a mechanical replacement, and he didn't appear to relish the fact.

...And finally, not only did the Lars fail to recognize Anakin, but they also didn't know that Luke was still alive.

The latter was to be expected, of course, and Anakin wasn't really surprised about the former. Anakin had only seen Beru and Owen a few times years ago, and he certainly looked nothing like he did then—his hair, though now mostly covering his scarred head, was thin and gray, and his skin—though not as white as it had been when he had first shed the suit—was still rather pasty.

"You must try to be calm," Obi-Wan began, not quite sure how the news about Anakin would hit them. "The Emperor was destroyed...by Anakin."

"_What_?" Beru and Owen exclaimed simultaneously, though their tones differed greatly. Evidently news didn't travel very fast to the Outer Rim.

"What exactly do you mean?" Owen frowned, folding his arms.

"Anakin returned to the Light Side," the Jedi said quietly but firmly. "He is Darth Vader no longer."

Owen snorted. "And why are we supposed to believe that?"

"Owen!" Beru admonished. "If Obi-Wan says it, then I believe it."

"The Jedi have never proven trustworthy before," the moisture farmer growled. "For all their powers, they can't protect a little baby—"

"Owen," the man's wife whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Owen softened, putting an arm around her. "I'm sorry, Beru, it's just—"

"Luke isn't dead," Obi-Wan said quietly.

"That isn't funny, Kenobi," the sun-weathered man snarled. "Don't give us any of your Force nonsense right now—"

"He's right here," the Jedi said, gesturing to Luke.

The Lars' eyes went to the boy. Immediately, they studied him, as if they had just seen him.

"If this is one of your tricks—" Owen began threateningly.

"It's not a trick," Anakin broke in. "_I _am Anakin Skywalker, and _this _is my son." Though the words sounded strong as he spoke them, Anakin's inward state was not reflective of their strength. He was frightened, though of what he was not quite sure.

"You..." Owen whispered. He didn't seem able to say anything more; he was too stunned.

"I'm confused about what's going on," Biggs said at last.

Gazing steadily at Owen, Obi-Wan began to explain: "Anakin's wife had two children before she died. The girl went to live on Alderaan, and the boy went to live on Tatooine. I was going to stay on Tatooine to look after Luke, but then I had to leave the planet to go to Alderaan...During that time, Luke was kidnapped by Tusken Raiders. I was still too emotionally distraught from Anakin's fall to rescue Luke without turning to the Dark Side, and I had to choose between the boy and the girl—for both would be in danger, whether from Tuskens or assassins...And so I left Luke to be raised by Tuskens, believing that Vader would never find him." He gave a wry smile. "I was wrong, but it does not matter now. Anakin's children helped bring him back to the Light Side...I am only sorry it took this long to let you know he was safe."

Beru, who had been growing more emotional as Obi-Wan told the story, finally moved forward to hug Luke. The young man was stiff at first before finally relaxing. Anakin watched the young man's face—it looked as if he were reliving a memory long thought gone.

Owen, though not much for affection, placed his hand on Luke's arm. "Glad you're still alive," he said quietly. That was as much as they were going to hear out of him, Anakin knew.

"So am I," Luke smiled.

Hearing him talk made Beru pull back to look curiously at his face. "Are you well?"

"I am fine," the boy whispered. "I am sorry I...caused you so much grief."

"This is your aunt and uncle, Luke," Anakin said tentatively. "Owen's father married my mother..."

"Would you like to visit her grave, Anakin?" Beru asked quietly.

"I would," he whispered in return, though his heart throbbed at the thought.

Beru took his arm and began to lead him. Owen watched them soberly.

****

Anakin knelt in front of Shmi Skywalker's grave for a long time, simply staring. Distantly, he heard Biggs come over and start a conversation with Beru.

"You know Owen won't take it from me," the pilot was saying. "But I know you need it. I've been saving up—it's not much, but I think it's enough to get him a new arm—and there should still be some money left over."

"Owen won't—"

"You can convince him to do it—I know you can," Biggs insisted. "You can convince him of almost anything. Space knows I certainly can't—I would try to convince him to leave this planet entirely if I thought it would actually work..."

"Tatooine will always be in our blood," Beru told him gently. There was a clinking noise of credits passing hands. "Thank you, Biggs."

Anakin heard Biggs leave and Beru exhale. He heard the ysalamir on his back shift and the dry desert wind sift through the sand. Then came the sound of Beru's clothes rustling as she moved to kneel by him. The noises brushed against him, but he barely registered them.

"Your mother was a kind woman," Beru said softly, breaking his reverie. "I didn't know her for as long as I would have liked, but she definitely taught me things. She was very wise, and she loved you very much."

"I know," Anakin whispered, a tear glistening in his eye. His mother had wanted him to leave Tatooine and lead a life of greatness—but what he had done would not make her proud. The only things of worth he had done were marry Padmé and bring Luke and Leia into being. And even those two things had been twisted by the awful acts he had committed...

"She would have been sad when you turned to darkness," Beru admitted, knowing his heart, "but she would have been glad when you finally gave up that life. She would be so happy to see you back with your son. Even when I received Luke as a baby, I had hoped it would be safe to one day let him be with his real father."

"But I'm such a terrible father—"

"No!" Beru shook her head, speaking with a firmness that was surprising. "You are trying. A terrible father is one who does not try, one who does not care for his children as you care for yours."

"Do you think I'm still capable of caring, Beru?" Anakin asked hoarsely.

"I do, Anakin—brother." She rested her hand on his shoulder, sitting beside him quietly for almost half an hour.

****

"I haven't heard of the Skinwalker," Owen was telling Obi-Wan in the garage when Beru and Anakin walked up, "though a man has arrived on-planet recently who's referred to as the Shadowwalker. Right now, he's living in the Jundland Wastes. A fool, that's what he is. He'll probably be killed by a krayt dragon if the Sand People don't get to him first." Though he couldn't command his guests to leave, Owen, the perpetual worker, was trying to make some repairs to his landspeeder, though he was having some difficulties. The occasional unintelligible curse escaped from him.

"Then that's where we must go," the Jedi said, looking at Anakin, who had heard the important part of the conversation.

"You will stay here tonight, though, first?" Beru prodded, giving Owen a questioning look. Her husband shrugged in surrender. "You need to be well-rested before you go to that region."

"If it's not too much of an imposition," Obi-Wan replied quietly. They didn't really _need _to stay—all of them were acquainted with the Jundland Wastes, and they would probably find what they were looking for with relative ease, especially with the Force on their side. But Obi-Wan wanted Anakin and Luke to be able to spend some time with these long-unseen members of their family.

"Not at all," Beru insisted. She gestured for them to follow her, but Anakin hesitated.

"Can Luke and I work on the speeder?" he questioned.

Owen sharply turned his eyes to rest on Anakin's face. Obi-Wan could practically see the gears in his brain turning. He was certain that Shmi had praised her son's mechanical prowess in front of Owen several times before her death, and it seemed he was right when Owen finally shrugged and grunted, "Mmmhmm."

Anakin and Luke moved toward the speeder, and Obi-Wan smiled. Luke, he knew, had been itching to try his hand at the task for a while.

****

The funeral was held in the Grand Audience Chamber. The room was so full of Bail Organa's admirers and friends that it felt almost claustrophobic. Leia, on Winter's advice, had decided to have the funeral quickly, lest Yavin IV become completely flooded with people. Still, enough time had passed for some Alderaanians to be able to make it to the funeral, including Leia's aunts, Celly and Rouge.

Leia's eyes were too swollen with tears for her to truly appreciate the details of the funeral, though she knew it had to be beautiful. Han and Chewie and Winter were beside her, trying to offer her comfort, but all she could see in her mind's eye was an image that blotted out everything else: her father's face, devoid of all life.

She could hear kind words being spoken—but could not comprehend them. She could feel the sympathy surrounding her—but could not understand it. Before long, her aunts' sobs filled her ears, drowning out the soothing voices she had been hearing. Knowing she should speak to the two, she forced her mouth to move, trying to talk over her own sobs. "Aunt Celly, Aunt Rouge—"

"It's this—this terrible Rebellion," Rouge sniffed out quietly. "I can't be—" she blew her nose, "—lieve all the horrors it's br-brought to our f-family."

"You're right, Rouge," Celly said, blowing her own nose. "It's been n-nothing but t-trouble," she sobbed.

Leia felt some of her grief disappear and be replaced by anger. "The Rebellion is what he was fighting for. You can't—"

"It was foolish for him to get involved," Celly declared, crying a little less now that she was focused on something else.

Han and Winter looked uncomfortable—the funeral was still taking place ("...a great man who left behind a great legacy..."), and the Organa conversation was beginning to grow a little more audible than it should be.

"He would not want you fighting at his funeral," the Corellian attempted to insert into the conversation.

"He wouldn't even _want_ you at his funeral," Rouge snapped at Han. "I know just what you are—a no-good smuggler."

"Aunt Rouge!" Leia exclaimed. If she had been mad before, that was nothing compared to how she felt now. "E_nough_!"

"It's true, Leia. Why you even stand _his _company, much less the company of all these rebels and vigilantes, I'll never know," Celly said snobbishly.

Winter tried to step in as mediator. "Please—"

But Han knew her polite nature would not knock any sense into these two dowagers, and he growled, "In case you haven't noticed, _ladies_, this is your brother's funeral. You're supposed to be grieving, not slinging mud at everyone in sight. If that's all you came here to do, then you might as well leave."

"Unh! The nerve of that man," Celly told Rouge, as if they were the only two people present.

Leia's vision began to blur with tears, and her chin started trembling with anger.

Han took one look at her and then, his jaw set, commanded, "Leave now, or I will drag you out of here myself."

"There's no need for physical force," Rouge stated, lifting her head up. "We are perfectly capable of leaving on our own. Come on, Celly." She gathered her things and began moving away.

"See, Leia, what you and your father have done to this family? You belong here with these traitors," Celly proclaimed, joining Rouge.

There was the minutest of pauses in the service as the two women walked down the center of the long Grand Audience Chamber, but then the funeral continued without any further hiccups: "We are grateful for his contributions..."

"Han," Leia whispered, but then she couldn't say any more, and he simply pulled her into his arms.

****

Winter gave a small smile as she watched the princess and the smuggler embrace. Then she turned her eyes forward. Soon, she would need to talk with Leia about a small private funeral for Nial. It was unfortunate that Celly and Rouge couldn't be invited, but their sudden estrangement from Leia was not one that would be easily undone. Winter certainly knew that.

She continued staring forward, feeling her eyes finally fill with tears at the passing of her foster father. She could remember his face and his voice as if he were still alive and standing in front of her...And it would be that way for the rest of her life. She would never forget—_could _never forget. Not even if she wanted to.


	12. Entrapping

After Anakin woke up in the morning, he went into the kitchen with his ysalamir backpack. Beru was shuffling around, preparing breakfast.

"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning," he returned.

"Owen has gone out to test the landspeeder," she told him. "I think he was pleased. It purrs like a pittin now—before you two worked on it, it was making some terrible noises."

Anakin merely gave her a sad smile. He wished there were more he could do for them. As Darth Vader, he'd had plenty of funds at his disposal. Now, however...

"I hope you Jedi aren't picky eaters," Beru said warmly. "We don't have much, but we're willing to share what we have."

Anakin swallowed. "You really shouldn't be going to any trouble—we do have ration bars in the shuttle which we can eat."

She shook her head as she began cutting into a green vegetable. "Nonsense. It's no trouble. Owen would've probably had to take that landspeeder to a mechanic—feeding you is nothing compared to what the bill would have been."

He smiled. "Tatooinian mechanics aren't exactly known for fair prices, I suppose."

"Hnh, that's right," came a voice from behind him.

Anakin turned to see Owen entering the kitchen. The moisture farmer nodded to him in greeting, and Anakin lowered his head in return.

"How was the landspeeder, Owen?" Beru queried.

"Good," he grunted. He turned to stare into Anakin's eyes. "Real good. Your mother wasn't telling us lies when she boasted about your skill with machines." That was Owen's way of saying thanks, and Anakin smiled back at him.

"Working in a junkshop as a child did give me some skills..."

"Well, we are thankful," Beru told him. "It's been really nice seeing you again, Ani."

Anakin nodded. "If all goes as planned, then I will be seeing you again soon."

"It's not very often that things go according to plan," Beru reminded him. "But let's hope they do."

The Jedi shook his head. "You're right about that."

Owen nodded at them and mumbled a few words about needing to go do something for a few minutes. He left the room, and Anakin turned to Beru hesitantly. "I wonder if I might ask you one more thing?"

"Certainly."

"Do you think you could hold on to the ysalamir for safekeeping?" Anakin brought the creature off his back and set the backpack on the floor. "The backpack it is in provides it with nutrients, so you will not need to do anything to take care of it. I have ensured that its supply will last a while...But ysalamiri create a small Force-less region, and I imagine we will need to use the Force where we are going...I certainly do not wish to hinder our progress."

"I'm sure you are right," she said gently. "The Force will certainly aid you. And it is no trouble at all. Just don't tell Owen—he's better off not knowing."

Anakin smiled in understanding. "I understand. It would just give him something else to complain about."

Beru chuckled. "It sounds as if you know him almost as well as I do." She bent down and picked up the ysalamir backpack, placing it on her shoulder. "Here—I will go put it somewhere that Owen won't find it."

"Thank you," he told her quietly.

"No, thank you—for helping bring Luke back."

He turned heavy eyes down toward the floor and whispered, mostly to himself, "I'm still thanking my lucky stars that he was brought to me."

* * *

After everyone gathered and ate breakfast, they climbed out of the pit and went to stand outside the homestead. A light desert wind was blowing, stirring up the sand beneath their feet. The twin suns were already burning brightly, and Luke was soon gazing up at them pensively.

After observing his son for a moment, Anakin turned to Owen and Beru. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said softly. Unspoken was: _It was more than I deserved._

Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin in concern, but the other man refused to meet his gaze, and so the older Jedi released a small sigh.

Owen grunted a noncommittal acknowledgment of their gratitude.

"I am glad I met you," Luke said softly, which brought a warm smile to Beru's face.

"We are glad, too," she replied with sincere kindness. Her eyes searched his face one more time, as if to make sure that he was real, and then she glanced at Obi-Wan and Anakin. "Please visit again soon." She turned her face toward Biggs and mouthed, "Thank you."

The dark-haired pilot dipped his head, flushing slightly.

They began to walk toward their shuttle, and Beru waved at them. Owen even managed to lift his arm in farewell.

"That's more than he usually does," Biggs whispered to the lagging Luke, who decided to turn with a smile and imitate the moisture farmer's movement.

A look of surprise came over Owen's face, and he slowly turned the raising of his hand into an actual wave.

The shuttle soon lifted into the air. Its occupants were leaving the Lars homestead with warmer hearts and higher hopes than they'd had at their arrival.

* * *

Leia's heart was broken and her hopes crushed. Her aunts were long gone, probably never to talk to her again; her newly returned cousin had first killed the kind man who raised her and then killed himself; and she still needed to discuss funeral arrangements for Nial with Winter. She was sitting on the bed in her room, and Winter and Han were looking at her in concern.

Finally, she whispered, "I don't know if I can handle another funeral right now."

"I know, Leia," Winter said, her tone understanding. "But it has to be done."

"What if me and Chewie took him back to Alderaan and buried him there?" Han suggested quietly.

The princess's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Han, would you?"

She couldn't bring herself to say much more than that, but the thought of burying Nial on Yavin IV seemed so wrong—he had not known the place and its people like Bail had. Peaceful Alderaan would be better suited to lay her cousin's soul at rest. Han seemed to understand that. Somehow, he understood how she felt.

She wished she could go to Alderaan with them, but she couldn't leave Yavin IV. Not right now. Not when she was needed so badly.

The smuggler gave her one of his signature lopsided grins. "We'll even do it free of charge."

That was the release she had needed, and she actually found herself laughing. "Well, in that case, then I _really _know it's meant to be." She swiftly sobered, however, and told him gratefully, "Thank you, Han. I'm beginning to think maybe you aren't such a scoundrel after all."

Han shook his head with a grin. "I'll always be a scoundrel, sweetheart." He turned to look at Chewie. "Come on, furball, let's get to it." The Wookiee growled at him and began moving to leave.

Han started to follow him, but then Leia called out, "Han!"

He turned and glanced at her.

She shook her head and swallowed the words she had been about to let out. "Never mind...Just—thanks."

Han nodded, said quietly, "We'll make sure to honor him," and left.

Leia watched Chewbacca leave with Han. Then she met Winter's eyes.

"Let's have a few minutes of silence ourselves to honor him," Leia's new aide suggested.

And so they did.

* * *

As the Imperial shuttle approached the Jundland Wastes, Chinnatah began to feel a heavy pressure on his mind. He glanced at the other Force users, but they did not seem to be affected by whatever was bothering him, so he kept quiet. He would have been willing to pilot the ship and guide them through the desert himself, but the Force was calling out to all three of the Force users, so there was no reason for him to take the task of piloting away from his father. It was probably good that he wasn't in control of the ship. The sensation affecting his head reminded Chinnatah a little of the jubba bird's song—enchanting, pulling...And yet, there was a strange buzzing in the back of his mind that made every small movement sluggish. The thrumming even seemed to be increasing by the minute.

Anakin appeared to pick up on the buzzing and glanced briefly away from the ship's controls to look at him. "Are you all right, Luke?"

He nodded, not wanting to expend the energy to talk. His father still seemed concerned but didn't try to pry. The call through the Force was too strong for any of them to ignore for long.

The more Chinnatah reached out toward the song, the more certain he became that there _was _a jubba bird calling out to them. Yet the heaviness on his mind wouldn't let him enjoy the manipulation of the Force as he had on Dagobah, and he forced himself to close his eyes and try to calm his breathing.

Anakin set the shuttle down in the region that the Force had drawn them all to. As there had been little communication between the Force users, Biggs looked at the controls skeptically.

Obi-Wan said to him in explanation, "This is where we need to be."

Not understanding but not wanting to ask, Biggs simply nodded.

As they went down the _Lambda_-class shuttle's ramp, they stared out at a cave disguised in the rock. Chinnatah had seen it several times before, though the others would never have noticed it without the aid of the Force.

"We must all be cautious," Obi-Wan said quietly as they moved to enter the gaping maw.

"Indeed," Anakin murmured, stepping into the darkness behind his former Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan quickly lit his blue saber, and it served as their sole light source. The air inside the cave was dry and dusty, and the cave itself quickly curved around into a dark and narrow passageway. They moved through the passage for a few minutes. Initially, the only sounds which reached their ears were the padding of their feet against the rocky floor and the low hum of the lightsaber. Distantly, however, they began to hear a jubba bird's beautiful song. It became and louder and louder, and then at last they moved around a corner, walking into a huge chamber filled with ancient stalagmites and stalactites.

In the center of the cave's chamber—visible by the light of a glowrod hanging on a pole—sat the jubba bird in a wooden cage. The cage was intricately designed, with swirls and miniature carved creatures prancing all over its bars. The multi-colored jubba bird craned its neck upward, finishing its song.

Also visible in the light was the back of a darkly cloaked figure. The mysterious being quietly praised the bird and handed it something through the cage which it eagerly ate. The bird let out one last trill of happiness before turning to stare at its new visitors.

"Are you the Skinwalker?" Anakin asked, his voice carrying across the chamber.

"I am," the man replied softly, turning around.

Chinnatah reached his Force sense out toward the stranger, the buzzing in his head increasing to an almost painful level. But he was utterly unable to read the other, which filled him with confusion. And then he realized the stranger was also a Force user—one who was skilled at shielding.

Despite the presence of a glowrod and Obi-Wan's lightsaber, the Skinwalker's face was shrouded in blackness, his hood pulled down far enough that Chinnatah wondered whether he could actually see. It was no wonder he he had been referred to as the Shadowwalker—even while being exposed to light, he looked like a spot of darkness.

"We were told to come to you," Obi-Wan said, extinguishing his saber and clipping it to his belt. He watched the man warily, and his hand remained close to his Jedi weapon.

"I know," the Skinwalker replied quietly. After lightly touching the Force senses of everyone in the cave and assuring himself of their identities, he reached out and scratched the jubba bird's neck, causing it to start its song again. Grabbing the glowrod pole, he gestured toward a passageway different from the one they had entered. "Follow me." He began moving deeper into the cave.

It was with reluctance that they followed him, though they felt a strange attraction to his presence. The jubba bird's song seemed to be pulling them back, holding most of their attention. But Chinnatah wasn't quite as enthralled with the bird as everyone else was—he could feel and hear the jubba bird's song, but the pressure on his mind was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

When the pressure finally stopped, it took him a few moments to notice the men stepping out of the darkness. It took a few more moments for him to realize that there was a void in the Force indicative of an ysalamir's presence. And then—before he could speak—there were bright blue blasts, and he and his companions fell into the darkness.

* * *

Leia was kept busy with her new duties. One of those duties included attending the private military meeting which Garm Bel Iblis had insisted she needed to come to. She didn't want to go, knowing it probably wouldn't improve her mood any, but she knew she should play her father's former role of mediator, lest Garm come to blows with Mon Mothma.

"As you all know, this meeting is highly classified," Garm began. "With our recent victory against the Emperor, we do not want to publicly release any information that could undercut morale and lead to a drop in our numbers. A Star Destroyer leading a small fleet has been making some very tactical hits with minimal losses—few survivors are ever left, certainly not any knowledgeable enough to provide us with useful data on the fleet. While there are several small Imperial fleets attacking Alliance ships, one particular fleet always stands out. It is suspected that the leader of this fleet is a Grand Moff or, perhaps, a Grand Admiral. We do not know how to stop this commander, but we do know that he must be stopped. We may have killed the Emperor, but if the Empire's inner squabbles cease and it finds a new leader to rally around, we might be in very bad shape."

Leia—still stunned by recent events—almost couldn't believe what she was hearing, but the serious expression on Bel Iblis's face emphasized the gravity of the situation. The Empire was not finished yet. There was still much to be done.

After a pause in which Garm's words seemed to fill the room, Mon Mothma queried, "Have you been able to determine a pattern from the attacks?"

The Corellian shook his head. "We have not been able to do so as of yet. We are still studying what little data we have." He looked over the solemn faces in the room. "Meanwhile, we must all remember that we are not the New Republic yet. We still must fight the Empire's tyranny to bring democracy back to the galaxy."

* * *

Upon waking, Anakin wasn't sure exactly how long ago it had been since he was stunned into unconsciousness. Still, he thought that—judging by the taste in his mouth—it must have been a little while. He shook his head to clear it, wincing from his slight headache. Then it registered that he was handcuffed and tied to a chair in a medium-sized room. More importantly, the Force was not with him.

"Blast," he murmured to himself.

"Recovering from a stun blast's effects is not nearly so simple without the Force," a familiar cultured voice remarked.

His vision having restored itself, Anakin glanced about for the source of the voice and found it. Two red eyes set in a blue face looked at him coolly.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn," Anakin rasped, his throat dry.

The Chiss was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair, and next to him was an uneasy-looking Imperial officer whom Anakin didn't recognize.

"Ah, so you haven't completely forgotten about the Empire," the Chiss said dryly. "That is good to hear, isn't it, Captain?"

"Indeed, sir," the officer replied quietly.

Thrawn moved his gaze away from Anakin, who followed the Chiss's movements with his eyes. On the other side of Anakin sat Obi-Wan, Luke, and Darklighter. All of them were bound.

"Your companions should be waking soon," Thrawn assured Anakin.

As if on cue, Darklighter let out a groan. Soon after that, Obi-Wan and Luke began rustling awake. Anakin heard a slight noise behind him and moved his neck as far as he could to look, catching a glimpse of black. The Skinwalker.

"All possible lock-picking items on your persons have been removed, as have your weapons. You are surrounded by ysalamir, which my bodyguard assures me are effective, so you won't have access to the Force. Now that you have all of the immediately relevant details of your situation, how about a little information exchange?"

"Why are we here?" Biggs demanded, struggling in vain against his restraints.

"I am going first, I see," Thrawn said with a sarcastic smile. "Fortunately, the answer to that question is fairly obvious and not of much worth..." He put his gaze on Obi-Wan before moving it to Luke. "Though they do not know it, the Rebels will be crippled without their Jedi, their neutral guardians, their shining knights...The Jedi have always been essential to the functioning of a galactic republic. An empire can easily quell disagreements with an iron fist, whereas a republic must always keep up appearances. To settle disagreements, a republic needs someone with a cool and calm head who does not try to push but instead to understand—traits which are not usually desired in a politician but which are almost always found in a properly trained Jedi mediator. As the Jedi became more arrogant, their connection to the people disintegrated." The Chiss trained his gaze back on Obi-Wan. "Is that not right, Master Kenobi?"

The Jedi Master did not meet his eyes.

"What do you want?" Luke asked quietly.

"I want to know why Darth Vader turned away from the Dark Side," the Grand Admiral said simply.

Anakin met the steady ruby orbs set in the Chiss's face unflinchingly. It would have been easy for him to give a simple answer or to refuse to give an answer at all. But for some reason, that wasn't what he wanted. Pointless though it may have been, he gave a real answer.

"Attachments," the former Sith said slowly, maintaining eye contact. "It was because of attachments that I turned to the Dark Side and because of them that I turned away. The hopes that I had placed in the Emperor and his Empire were based on destruction of attachments—not saving attachments as I had planned. With the Empire, I destroyed the attachments of others...But then my children and my mentor came forward, and suddenly I was attached to something again. Soon, Palpatine was trying to destroy my attachments once more. That is the problem with the Empire—though it may best hold people together with its government, it cannot understand their attachments, much less offer sufficient protection." There were words other than "attachments" which he could have used, but somehow he thought that it was the best choice of words when speaking to Thrawn. He didn't think words like "love" would hold any significant meaning for the analytical Grand Admiral.

* * *

For a few seconds, Thrawn stared at the man who was once called Darth Vader. It would have been easy to convince himself that this was an imposter, but he had been assured that the Force had confirmed the identities of all the men standing before him. Their conversation was being recorded, so he could examine Anakin Skywalker's response later...

Satisfied that the former Sith had not held back anything, Thrawn briefly offered forth information of his own, carefully abridging the version of events which he told them. Still, as he told them his modified story, he couldn't help but recall the complete version of those events...

* * *

_Grand Admirals were given unlimited access to many places, among which was the prison on Kessel. Sometimes a member of the Imperial High Command would need to deposit or remove a prisoner, and the change would happen without the incurring of questions. When Thrawn went personally to the Warden for what was not the first time, the prisoner of interest to him was immediately retrieved from the darkness of the mines._

_The prisoner was ushered into the room where Thrawn was awaiting his entrance. The human boy was covered in grime, his face sullen and his eyes cold as he surveyed Thrawn without fear. He had not been in the mines long enough to deteriorate into madness, though it would only have been a matter of time._

_"I know a lot about you, boy," Thrawn said quietly._

_"Somehow I doubt that," the youth snorted, his eyes gazing idly around the room, as if they were searching for some sort of weapon that might aid his escape._

_"I know that your family betrayed you."_

_The human's eyes snapped to Thrawn's face. Now, he had the boy's full attention._

_He held the young man's gaze steadily. "You were doing what they should have wanted you to, embracing the values they claimed they wanted you to hold." He paused for a moment before adding firmly, "They lied to you."_

_But the youth, who looked as if he had been stewing in hatred for a while and was surprised to find it supported, made an awkward attempt at a rebuttal: "They did what they thought was best." The words seemed to be bitter in his mouth._

_"But what about what you thought best?" Thrawn pressed. "Did they consider the fact that you were willing to risk your life for something you believed in? Or were they too busy trying to maintain their own grasps on life?" He had seen copies of the art mounted in the boy's room back on Alderaan—he knew of the passion the human felt. And so he continued, "Did they know that you were doing it for them?"_

_"No," the boy whispered, a tear trickling down his face. "They just turned me in without asking me anything."_

_"When the Emperor falls, as he is sure to due to his diabolical nature and unfortunate overconfidence, I will take over the Empire. My Empire will not be like his; unlike your uncle, I would never betray one of my own." He meant the statement to be a clever lie—he had no intention of being at the helm of the Empire...But he couldn't help but wonder—was the statement against the Emperor a complete lie?_

_"You won't be like the Emperor?"_

_Thrawn nodded. "I won't be like the Emperor or your family. Now, come with me and stop your tears. They will gain you nothing."_

_The human nodded and followed him out of the room, his face hardening._

* * *

"I converted Nial Organa to my side, rescuing him from the spice mines of Kessel, where he had been placed because of his uncle's actions. Then I set forth my plans and sent him to the Rebel Headquarters when the time was right. Of course, he was supposed to kill both of the Organas, though I had held doubts as to whether he was prepared enough to kill his cousin. Still, what I wanted has been accomplished—the morale of the Rebels has been shaken by Bail Organa's death, though they might be rallying around it right now. They know now that their leaders are not untouchable, and—" the Chiss's eyes glinted, "I have caught their precious Jedi."

"You really thought of everything, didn't you?" Biggs shook his head, distaste in his voice.

Thrawn lifted his chin and looked to some spot over their shoulders. He gave a subtle but commanding nod.

The Skinwalker's cloak rustled behind them as he moved to retrieve something.

"Why are you keeping us alive?" Anakin questioned quickly, but Thrawn ignored him, and soon Anakin felt the pinprick of a needle on his neck. It was back to the darkness for him.


	13. Stalling

A few days after Han's return to Yavin IV, Leia was walking down a Massassi corridor and staring at a datapad when she ran into a soft wall with a cape on.

Blinking in confusion, Leia looked up and sputtered a quick and sincere apology to a handsome dark-skinned man who looked more than pleased to have been run into.

"No need to apologize," the man said, pulling her hand up to kiss it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss—?"

"Leia," the frazzled Alderaanian offered simply.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Leia," the suave man said, flashing her a bright smile. "My name is Lando Calrissian—I'm here to discuss allying Bespin with the Alliance...What is a beauty such as yourself doing wandering the halls like this?"

"Helping run the Alliance," Leia said dryly. _Boy, this guy sure puts the charm on thick, doesn't he?_ she thought to herself with some amusement. "Actually, right now I'm on my way to visit a friend."

"I wouldn't happen to know this friend, would I?" Lando queried, following her as she began to move again.

"Not unless you're accustomed to hanging out with smugglers," Leia said under her breath.

"Pardon?"

Louder, she said in a voice that was polite and perhaps a little patronizing, "I do not suppose that you are acquainted with a Captain Han Solo?"

The man's grin grew even larger—if that was even possible—and he said, "If you're talking about a Corellian who's as arrogant as his ship is fast, then I know exactly who you mean."

Leia actually cracked a smile. His description wasn't really off the mark. "That would be the one." She was surprised the rough Han Solo would know someone like this—but she supposed Han was full of surprises.

Lando Calrissian persisted in walking by her side. "We were buddies until he took my ship from me...But Bespin's doing well, and the_ Lady Luck_ is a fair craft, so I decided a while back to let bygones be bygones...Would you mind if I accompanied you? I haven't seen him in quite some time, and I know we have some catching up to do."

She _did_ mind, but she didn't tell him that. Instead, she shrugged and said, "Might as well."

* * *

Talon Karrde was sitting at his desk and staring at a monitor. He and his employees had already located to a temporary base several systems away from Myrkr, but he was still busy scouring the information banks for a more secure one. He was in the middle of the said scouring when Mara entered his office.

"You called for me?" the redhead asked after the smallest of hesitations.

The smuggler chief looked up from his computer screen. "Ah, yes. I just received some information that I thought you might be interested in. In all truthfulness, I do not want to give the information to you, but in light of recent events, I feel obligated." He sighed and finally told her: "It seems four prisoners are being held on the _Chimaera_ with a constant guard of 'strange furry lizards.' Chances are, Thrawn has four of our former prisoners."

Mara looked at him, her disbelief just barely perceptible. "And how did you come across this information?"

"No crew is infallible, Mara. One just has to find the right price." He studied her carefully for a few moments. "I wonder if—in exchange for that information—I might have a little information concerning you?"

Her emerald eyes looked at him carefully, and he had the distinct feeling that he was being judged. "What would you like to know?" she asked at last.

"Why do you hate them so much?"

Her eyes flashed down to the floor briefly before she brought her head back up to meet his gaze. "They ruined my life," she said simply, and he nodded in response.

He handed out a datacard, which she took from his hands. "Those are the coordinates," he told her simply.

She mumbled her gratitude and turned to leave. But then she paused in the doorway with her back still to him. "I have to go...You know that."

"I do," Karrde said softly, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other for very long...You were a skilled employee. If you ever need a job again, there will always be a spot in my organization for you."

"Thanks," she said softly. Her normally stiff demeanor had softened.

"Ask them to prep one of the Blastboats for you—consider it a farewell gift since you tried so hard to track them down the first time." Giving away ships wasn't normally the sort of thing Karrde did, but he knew he could afford it, and he wanted to do it this once. Somehow, he knew Mara Jade had been through a lot—she deserved something to help her along. And he did hope that she would work for him once again someday. Perhaps this could serve as an incentive. She struck him as the sort of person who would hate to be indebted to anyone.

"I appreciate it," Mara told him softly before walking out.

He believed that she was a little sad herself—sure, she'd always seemed slightly bothered by the fact that his operations weren't exactly legitimate, but with galactic government in the shape it was, legitimacy was a very fluid term. He sighed glumly and returned his gaze back to his computer screen.

* * *

"Ow!" came a shout from beneath the _Millennium Falcon_. It was soon followed by some strong Corellian curses.

Chewbacca growled something and then began chuckling, presumably at Han's misfortune.

Leia and Lando exchanged an amused look as they moved closer to the ship.

"Ship's giving you trouble as always," Lando called out. "You shouldn't have taken her from me—I would have gotten her in tip-top shape."

Han quit what he was doing and moved out from underneath the _Falcon_. "Lando!" he exclaimed in surprise. Then he turned stern and held up a finger in anticipation of a verbal onslaught. "Now, you know I won that ship fair and square."

"Yeah, yeah," Lando said dismissively, stepping forward and embracing the smuggler. "How you doing, ol' buddy?"

"I'm pretty well—but why are you here? Smuggling's gone dry and you're looking for someone to pester?"

The cultured man looked hurt. "I'll have you know I'm involved a legit operation nowadays at Cloud City." He brightened. "As a matter of fact, I came here as a representative for Bespin when I happened upon this lovely young lady." He flashed a smile at Leia.

"Yeah, well, hands off her," Han warned, a wave of jealousy hitting him. "The last thing she needs is your circus act."

"Han, I'm hurt," Lando Calrissian claimed, though the grin on his face didn't exactly show him to be writhing in pain.

"I _am _right here, you know," Leia reminded them.

"Ah, yes," Lando smiled. "How could I forget the presence of such a jewel in our midst? Please, you must allow me to serve you dinner on my ship—and Han and Chewie, too, of course," he added. "I've developed quite a skill for cooking in my bachelorhood."

"We'll pass this time," Han said before Leia could speak. "It was great seeing you, Lando."

Even Lando Calrissian knew a dismissal when he heard it. Still, his eyes sparkled as he bowed toward Leia and took her hand. "Again, it was a pleasure," he told her. And then he disappeared with a swish of his cape.

"My, isn't he charming," Leia stated dryly.

"Tries too hard to be a ladies' man, but—" Han shrugged, "well, he's a great guy."

"That's good to hear." The princess couldn't help but smirk. She had enjoyed the signs of envy Han had displayed, though she wasn't quite sure why.

* * *

As soon as her new Skipray Blastboat was warmed up and the navicomputer had plotted her course, Mara made the jump into hyperspace. Now, she just needed to decide what to do when she got there.

She refused to examine _why_ she felt that it was absolutely imperative that she should go, instead concentrating on the choice of actions which would be before her. Since the Jedi were in Imperial clutches, she might be able to consider the matter out of her hands—perhaps she should even report to Thrawn and rejoin the Empire, as he would likely take her in...But wouldn't her master have wanted the people who killed him to be dead themselves? And truly, her loyalty was not to the Empire but to the Emperor, so even if she did kill the four Imperial prisoners, which would probably be against Thrawn's wishes (unless they were already dead—the Grand Admiral wasn't one to unnecessarily delay things), reporting to the Empire might bring her trouble.

She rubbed her temples, a headache growing which she blamed on the blasted ysalamir in her ship. She had grabbed an ysalamir backpack before leaving and was now wondering whether to regret that decision or praise her foresight.

Her head swirling with an array of thoughts, she sighed. Maybe she could decide what to do when she got there. She always did prefer making decisions on the fly.

* * *

All four of them were kept in the same cell, which Anakin thought was a little strange. Still, it made some sense—Thrawn was probably trying to keep knowledge of his prisoners on a need-to-know basis, and keeping them all in the same place would lessen the chance that someone would happen upon them and start asking awkward questions. Besides, with the ysalamiri's Force-less bubble and the fact that their hands were bound in front of them in SC-401 stuncuffs (which tightened when their wearers struggled and could shock their wearers when receiving the cue from a remote), it wasn't likely that the group would be going anywhere any time soon. In addition, Thrawn was probably hoping that they would release some pertinent information. Anakin looked up and eyed the cameras pointed down at them. Still, it wasn't like any of them really knew any Alliance secrets, anyway. Surely Thrawn knew that.

Anakin shifted on his cot. There were four cots in the cell, and each of them was sitting on his designated cot in an awkward silence. They were positioned fairly close together...and while Anakin had instructed men to be placed in much smaller cells, he had also seen bigger ones. Something about their closeness felt awkward, and Darklighter in particular seemed extremely uncomfortable.

Tapping his foot on the metallic floor, the starfighter pilot finally ventured, "So, uh, what's the game plan?"

"We wait," Anakin answered, his voice making the young man jump. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting the former Darth Vader to answer him. "We hold no truly valuable information, and Thrawn is not one to pointlessly toy with his prisoners, so we wait. He must have some plan for us...And I do not see us escaping any time soon."

Darklighter looked disappointed, but he didn't say anything else.

"What do you think he wants from us?" Luke asked quietly.

"I do not know," Anakin answered truthfully. "He was one of the Emperor's greatest masterminds—but I do not think even he would believe he could convert us to his side. We _should_ be more beneficial to him dead than alive..." _But if he dares lay a hand on my son, he will pay, _Anakin vowed privately to himself, his anger flaring. _I will not have his life cut short._

"The Skinwalker worries me," Obi-Wan finally spoke. "Who is he? And why is he on Thrawn's side?"

"I can't believe how easily we were tricked," Anakin growled, mostly upset at himself. "Why were we not more suspicious of him?"

"I think it was that bird," Biggs stated flatly.

"The jubba bird's song is indeed enchanting," Obi-Wan agreed. "Still, the Skinwalker was extremely skilled at creating mental shields—I wonder who could have trained him...Do you think the Emperor instructed him before he died, Anakin?"

Anakin considered the question briefly. "I did not recognize him, but it is certainly possible. The Emperor did enjoy keeping secrets..."

"Is it possible the Emperor trained him as a replacement?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice quiet.

The former Sith Lord hesitated. "I am not...certain...The Sith try not to be more than two in number—more than that, and there is too great of a risk of betrayal...But Palpatine was always cunning and prepared for treachery..."

"It's too bad no one knows where we are," Darklighter said, his tone sounding wistful. The subject was, perhaps, out of place in the conversation, but the sentiment was strongly felt by everyone in the prison cell. If only someone knew where they were...

* * *

Fortunately for them, someone _did _know where they were. Even more fortunate was the fact that that someone was the Emperor's Hand. When her Skipray Blastboat hailed the Star Destroyer _Chimaera_, she was able to give the proper access codes—codes which she had received from the Emperor long before his death which signified that her arrival was not to be questioned or broadcasted.

When she stepped out of her ship into the hangar with a furry lizard on her back, she only received a few curious looks. Apparently, people on this ship had been taught to dampen their curiosity when faced with someone bearing an ysalamir.

Mara looked briefly around the hangar before moving forward. Each Imperial ship was specially designed with secret passageways, and the Emperor had ensured that she memorized every one. The only trick was not getting caught going into them and coming out of them. But Mara Jade was skilled with espionage, and outsmarting the average Imperial was not a challenge to her.

* * *

Leia was tired of drawing up so many memberships with various planets and systems. They all had some sort of condition that they pushed and whined for, and while she had helped the Alliance's ranks grow, she had also lost a few prospective candidates. Still others were standing by carefully, watching how the Alliance was going to act, wondering if the Empire would raise its head once more...Which, of course, was what the Empire was doing, though not many people knew about it. How long that secrecy would remain, however, was yet to be seen.

She was going over the details of one such membership charter when someone entered her office.

"Hi, Han," she greeted, only looking up from her datapad long enough to see who it was.

"Hi, Leia," the Corellian responded, coming up behind her desk to place his hands on her shoulders and start massaging her.

She tensed up at first and then gave in. Relaxing, she tipped her head back, and a soft groan escaped her. "That feels good."

"Good," Han replied. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She let a sigh loose and straightened after a minute or two. "I wish you could do that all day, but I've got work to do..."

The smuggler shook his head. "You need to take a break, sweetheart. When was the last time you ate? Winter says you didn't seem to touch any food today."

Leia's immediate reaction was to protest and wave away his concern, but before any words escaped her lips, she frowned in thought. She really _couldn't _remember the last time she had eaten.

"All right, Han, I'll take a break," she sighed. "But it can't be for too long—I have work to do."

Han Solo just rolled his eyes and picked up a bag she hadn't noticed him bring in. "Come with me."

* * *

Via a route of secret passageways, Mara managed to make it to the detention area. After punching in a few codes, she whispered to herself triumphantly, "Got 'em."

A few minutes later, the guards watching over her target cell were unconscious. She looked in disgust at their unconcerned ysalamiri and then set to work on the door. Grabbing the remote which controlled the prisoners' stun cuffs from one of the guards, she entered the room, the door closing behind her with a light hiss.

The four downtrodden males looked quickly up at her appearance, and she couldn't help but smirk at the expressions on their faces. "Expecting someone else?"

Vader was pale (_With fear?_ she wondered), and he sounded somewhat angry as he demanded, "Jade, what are you doing here?"

But she wasn't afraid of him. Tapping her leg absentmindedly, as if she had all the time in the world and were simply bored, she replied, "Wondering why Thrawn hasn't already killed you. It's not like Thrawn to play with his food."

A small voice uttered her name: "Mara."

She turned her head and looked at him. Gone was the pasty white skin he had possessed when they had first met. His hair was neatly trimmed, and the way he held himself placed him somewhere between a man and a boy. Strange that she hadn't noticed it on Myrkr.

His blue eyes held her emerald ones, somehow communicating without words. Unbidden, images of the time they had spent together as children came into her head. Those were the few instances where she had actually been allowed to feel like a child—the few times where—

She stiffened. She wasn't a child any more. She was a grown woman, and she needed to kill these people who had killed her master—who had removed from being the man who had raised her and taught her to fight and to kill.

She raised her blaster, pointing it at Sun—no, at Luke Skywalker, for he was no longer that playmate of hers—knowing that he would be hardest to kill. Knowing that when she killed him, she would be killing a part of herself. Knowing that if she _didn't _kill him, she would be killing a different part of herself, a part of her life.

He didn't look scared like she thought he would. He simply stared at her with those sapphire eyes of his, calm and accepting like the dutiful Jedi he was going to be trained to be. Her eyes hardened, and she started to press down on the trigger.

"Please, Jade," she heard Darth Vader's unexpected voice. "Please don't kill my son. Kill me, if you must—but don't kill him."

She moved her eyes to the Sith Lord's face, surprised to see tears shining in his eyes...She noticed that his eyes—once hidden behind a dark mask—were blue. Just like Luke's...

"Please, Jade," the man continued to plead.

Mara looked at the other two men in the room—Kenobi and...Darklighter, she remembered. The former simply seemed sad, but the latter seemed afraid, though he tried to put on a brave face.

"Mara, the Emperor never cared for you," her former playmate said quietly. "He just used you...hurt you..."

Mara's anger flared up. "Oh, but you haven't hurt me?" She swept a hand at the prisoners in the room. "You Jedi killed the only man who ever—" But she cut herself off. She didn't know how to complete the sentence.

Vader said to her gently, "He didn't love you, Mara. He didn't know how to love."

"You're...you're..." But she didn't know what he was. He wasn't lying—the Emperor _hadn't _loved her. Instead, he had...he had...

She lifted back up the blaster that had drooped in her hand. Trembling, she pointed it at Sun—no, it was Luke Skywalker she pointed it at. It was Luke Skywalker's head that she pressed the gun's cool metal against. And it was Luke Skywalker's eyes that she couldn't break her gaze away from.


	14. Failing

"Where _are_ we going, Han?" Leia asked her Corellian companion for the umpteenth time. They had left the Alliance base and were trudging through the jungle.

"Just wait," the smuggler replied—also for the umpteenth time—as he made his way through a thick set of bushes.

Rolling her eyes, Leia continued following him. They pushed their way through some undergrowth and branches, and then Leia suddenly stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

They were at what must have passed for one of the jungle planet's oases. A body of water big enough to swim in lay before her, the water gleaming in the sunlight. The pool was constantly being filled by a waterfall which was small by waterfall standards but still large enough to drench anyone who stood under it. Surrounding the area were several colorful ferns and flowers which reveled in the abundant moisture.

Moving forward, Han picked a light purple flower. He returned to hand it to her, and then—as if embarrassed by his own gesture—he tore his eyes away from hers and looked back at the water. "It's pretty, isn't it?" he grunted.

"Yes, it is," Leia responded, her heart swelling for the man beside her.

And then, strangely, the smuggler began to babble. "Chewie found it. This was his whole idea, actually, the picnic and everything—I brought an assortment of food, so hopefully you'll like someth—"

Smiling warmly, Leia cut him off. "Is this a date, Han?"

"Uh, well," Han seemed a little flustered, "yeah, I guess it is." He straightened, regaining a little of his composure.

She studied him for a minute. "Well, I've never dated a scoundrel before, but I'll guess you'll do."

Han grinned back at her, his nervousness fading away as if it had never existed. "Now, I know how picky the tastes of royalty can be, but I was assured..."

As he continued talking, Leia wasn't listening. She was too busy staring at him. How had she been so fortunate to have this man—this ridiculous, but caring, scoundrel of a man—come bursting into her life? Had she simply met him at a political function or party, she would never have thought twice about him...A pirate and a princess—it sounded too much like a fairytale, and she still couldn't believe that it was real...

Still, maybe fairytales weren't so bad.

* * *

Mara Jade couldn't force herself to pull the trigger. She couldn't stand the thought of witnessing those blue eyes in front of her face close forever, and she hated herself for it.

"Blast you, Sun," she snarled, "you know I can't kill you in cold blood." Fumbling for the binder remote, she released the prisoners from their stun cuffs. "Come on, let's get you out of here," she told them with a jerk of her head, acting as if it were perfectly normal that she would go from trying to kill them to trying to rescue them in a matter of seconds.

Appearing as if he didn't want to look a gift guarlara in the mouth, Vader simply accepted the situation and asked her, "Do you know where our lightsabers are?"

Mara shook her head. "And we're not going to go looking for them." She opened the door and paused beside the downed guards, grabbing their blasters from their holsters and throwing them at Sun and Vader, knowing they were both good shots. Then, after shifting her ysalamir backpack, she stalked forward, the four escapees following her.

"Do you know where you're going?" Biggs asked her, trotting forward to pull up beside her.

Mara just rolled her eyes. "Do you think I just came in here with guns blazing? You would hear alarms blaring, if that were the case. No, stealth is our partner right now. We just have to make it to one of the secret passageways, and then it should be smooth flying from here."

She and Biggs turned a corner and then jolted backwards as they nearly ran into an Imperial officer and four Stormtroopers. Unfortunately, the officer recognized Biggs and—seeing Mara's lack of insignia or uniform—shouted, "Get them! That's an escaped prisoner!"

"Sithspit," Mara mumbled harshly beneath her breath, immediately lifting her blaster and shooting down two Stormtroopers. The other three escapees came up behind her, and either Sun or Vader brought another down.

Though they seemed to be aiming for Mara, a shot flew past her and hit Darklighter in the chest.

Not wasting the precious time it would take to look at him (and trying to ignore the pained cry she heard from Sun), Mara fired again, shooting the last Stormtrooper just as Anakin brought down the officer.

"Biggs, say something," Sun was whispering frantically. "Say something!"

"Luke," Biggs said, his eyes fluttering open for a few brief seconds. "Let Beru and Owen—let them know I love them."

"Biggs!" Sun exclaimed, pulling on the slackening arm of his friend. "You didn't die _before_—you can't die _now_!"

Obi-Wan gently touched his back. "Luke, he's gone. And we must go, too, or his death will have been pointless."

"Biggs," the youth said quietly, staring in shock at his dead companion.

Anakin made a quick decision and bent down to pick up his body. As he stood up, he noticed Mara's incredulous look. "The least we can do is return his body to his guardians," he told her with a slight growl to his voice.

"Sentimental Jedi," the Emperor's Hand muttered, gesturing with her blaster. "Grab their weapons, and let's go."

* * *

Why did everyone have to die? Why couldn't he save anyone? Vrentlla and his Tusken guardians had died, Leia's guardian had died...And now Biggs, too, was dead.

Two drops of moisture trickled down his cheek, unknown to him and not visible to the others in the dark passageway, which was lit by a sole glowrod hanging from Mara's hand. Coughing a little at the dust that had built up in the passage, he stepped forward quickly to fall in step beside Anakin. His voice inaudible to the others in the passage, he asked, "Father, is there a way to save someone from death?"

The other froze for a few seconds before moving forward again. Looking down at the body in his arms, he replied to his son, "No, Luke. I once thought there was...I had nightmares about your mother dying, and I wanted to do anything to stop it—even kill people without reason, kill..._children _without reason...I turned to the Dark Side, and in doing so I brought about the very thing I was trying to stop. The Emperor told me he knew how to save someone from dying...But he lied." His voice sounded strange, almost as if it were about to abandon him. "Do what you can to protect the ones you love, Luke, but don't hurt innocents for it. Don't sell your soul."

Chinnatah was quiet. He continued walking for a few moments before asking a question that was somewhat unusual but not purposeless. "Father, did you lose faith in love?"

Anakin swallowed. The unexpected words hit him like a tornado, tearing apart all the walls he had built and revealing to him emotions he'd long thought gone. It was with an almost tangible pain that he forced his next words to leave his throat: "The fear that grew out of my love—I let it take over my love. I didn't trust in love to save Padmé. I trusted in fear."

For several seconds, Chinnatah walked in silence, staring at the barely-visible ground. He finally brought his blue eyes up to look beside him at the silhouette of his father, the glimmer of sympathy present in his gaze unseen by its target. "What exactly is love?"

After taking a deep breath, Anakin gave a bittersweet smile. "Love is caring about someone else's life and happiness more than your own. It's not wanting to breathe unless that person is breathing, too...It's wanting to take on someone else's troubles as your own...It's—it's wishing that bad things would happen to you rather than them."

Chinnatah opened his mouth to say something, paused, and then opened his mouth again. "I think," he said pensively, "I think I may love you."

"Luke," his father whispered, a tear gleaming in his eye. "I...I love you, too, son."

* * *

When they reached the hangar, Vader split from the party with the Rebel pilot's body, bolting for the Imperial shuttle near them while everyone else headed for Mara's ship. At a questioning look from Obi-Wan, the former Sith Lord yelled in explanation, "That ship's too small, and I'm not just shoving his body in the cargo hold. I'll meet you on Tatooine!"

Mara was about to send Obi-Wan and Sun to go with him and get off her hands, but there wasn't much time to talk, so she simply scowled at Vader and resigned herself to having unwanted company.

Somehow, the rest of the party made it to Mara's Skipray Blastboat, though Sun's shoulder and Obi-Wan's side got grazed by blaster bolts before the Imperials shooting at them were taken down. The three of them lunged into the ship, which Mara had fortunately kept warmed up. After stowing her ysalamir backpack, she lifted the ship up into the air and out of the hangar. Word of their escape had evidently spread, as the Star Destroyer began shooting at them despite the codes which Mara sent.

Muttering under her breath, Mara began evasive maneuvers while the navicomputer calculated the coordinates to Tatooine. Her ship rocked as it was hit by a couple blasts, but just as a squadron of TIE fighters was being released by the Star Destroyer, she pulled the hyperdrive lever, and the stars around them blurred.

They all released a sigh of relief they hadn't realized they'd been holding, and Obi-Wan soon inquired of Mara, "Does this ship have a medkit?"

The young woman opened her mouth, about to give a scathing reply, but then she thought better of it and said reluctantly, "Yeah, I guess we had better treat these blaster burns." She quickly found the kit, and they passed it around and dressed all their wounds.

A few minutes later, Mara told them, "I'm going back to Karrde after I drop the two of you off on Tatooine, though I shouldn't even do _that_ much for you. You Jedi are a lot more trouble than you're worth."

"Have you thought about becoming a Jedi, too?" Kenobi asked her.

She blinked, not sure she had heard him right. "What?"

"You have the abilities but lack the discipline," the Jedi told her. "Palpatine never wanted you to reach your full potential."

The redhead opened her mouth, prepared to argue, but then she closed it, thinking. It wasn't a lie. Palpatine _had_ always held her back, but she'd never really thought about why. "And why do you think that is?" The question escaped before she could stop it. Blast these Jedi and their ability to capture her attention!

"He didn't want you to overthrow him," the Jedi told her quietly. "But that was just a small part of it. He would never have trained you as his successor. I have talked to Anakin—I know that you were always just his tool. I imagine you must have wanted the position Anakin held—must have wanted to kill him and take his place at the Emperor's side...But there was a reason women rarely made it into a position of power in his Empire. Palpatine thought of both women and aliens as weak and rarely turned to them unless they had proved themselves far superior to most of the men he readily accepted...Anakin told me he had to convince Palpatine to allow you to survive—your parents were both Jedi, and Anakin knew the deep potential you held. Palpatine did not want a female as his apprentice, but he saw possibilities in it—possibilities in you. But he would never have allowed you to replace Anakin."

"Vader betrayed him," Mara spat. "He didn't deserve to be his right hand."

"That may be so," Obi-Wan conceded, "but you would never have held that position in his place. Search your feelings, Mara. You know I speak the truth."

Refusing to say any more, Mara stared down at the controls in front of her. The most annoying thing was that she knew he was right. The Emperor had always sent her to do his bidding in private—he would never have changed that to place her in the public eye. He would have found another male Force sensitive, and she would have continued as she always had, contributing to the Empire's survival while never receiving any credit for it. She had never really questioned that life...But now?

She could feel Sun staring at her, but she refused to look back at him. Instead, she rubbed her temples, trying to get rid of the headache which that blasted ysalamir was only partially responsible for. What was she going to do?

* * *

Han didn't know why he was staying on Yavin IV. Hanging around like this just wasn't like him.

"Chewie, I'm going soft, and I don't like it," he grumbled.

The Wookiee, who was completing some repairs to the hyperdrive, chuckled lightly. [It happens to everyone sometime.]

The smuggler shook his head. "It's not like me. Han Solo does not go on...dates." _Not serious ones, anyway,_ he thought to himself.

Chewbacca moved to stare briefly at his friend. [You really are wrapped up in her.]

"I wouldn't put it like that," Han growled, though there was no real bite in his voice. "We should make some smuggling runs, I know, but her father just died, and I can't—"

[Young one,] his copilot interrupted, [I know that she needs you. And besides, hers is a cause I support.]

Knowing Chewie was thinking about the Empire's treatment of non-humans, Han shifted uncomfortably. He had saved the Wookiee from slavery...which had resulted in Chewie's swearing a life-debt to him. He had been annoyed by it at first, but now he was glad for the companionship...

"Gone are the days of neutrality, huh?" Han gave Chewbacca a lop-sided grin.

[If they were ever truly present to begin with,] the Wookiee rumbled, amused. It had always been apparent which side he preferred. His bright blue eyes studied his friend for a moment. [The picnic was a good first step. But beware, young one, she will be easily carried away by others and may even lose herself if you do not watch out for her.]

"I'm not that young," the smuggler protested, avoiding the real issue. Still, Chewie's statement made him seem thoughtful.

[When you reach sixty, cub, I might consider elevating your status,]Chewie said with a toothy grin.

Han rolled his eyes but then turned more serious. "I do know what you mean, though. If Leia's not careful, she'll work herself to death..."

[Then you must ensure that she gets in ample play time,]the Wookiee told him with a knowing chuckle.

* * *

They stood in front of Biggs' grave silently.

Despite the darkness—for the Tatooinian suns had not yet risen—tears could be seen streaming down Beru's face. Even Owen's eyes gleamed in the sparse light.

Words had been said, but everyone felt they were insufficient.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save him," Luke at last said quietly.

The grieving Lars looked at him in confusion—they had heard an account of what happened, and there had been no indication that the blame should be placed on him.

The young man continued speaking, his sorrow easily evident. "I should have known—I—I should have done something."

"Luke," Obi-Wan spoke gently, "there was nothing you could have done. None of us could touch the Force—we could not have known what was going to happen."

"I could have said to leave the ysalamir behind," Luke said stubbornly.

Anakin shook his head. "Son, without the ysalamir Jade had, we would have brought the Skinwalker down upon our heads. Four Force users would not have gone unnoticed."

"I could have defeated him if—if I had learned a little more about the Force," the blond-headed youth claimed.

* * *

Annoyed, Mara heard herself replying, "And how would you have done that, Sun?"

Sun stared at her, his passionate anger making him talk more quickly and fluidly than he might otherwise have done. "I could have trained with Yoda. If I had been more knowledgeable of the Force, the I might have known not to ask for Biggs to come with us—or maybe I would have realized we should not have carried the ysalamir around. Somehow, I would have been able to stop it."

Mara had felt a chill go down her spine at the name _Yoda_. She had thought that great Jedi Master was dead—her master had said he was centuries old when the Empire first rose. Could he really still be alive? "Yoda?" she prodded, curiosity driving her.

"He knows the Force," Sun explained, a glint in his eye. "He can make anyone great. There is this—this power in him...I am going to go to him." He paused, his anger mixing with a little hope. "You could go with me."

Mara stared at Sun, feeling equal parts attraction and repulsion at his suggestion. To even feign interest in training with Yoda felt like a betrayal of her former master. And yet, she was curious. Who exactly was this ancient Jedi who had survived a duel with her master long enough to run away from it? And why _had _he fled? If he were as great as the galaxy had once believed, then why had he not gone down in the blaze of glory Jedi seemed so fond of?

She _could_ go to see the Jedi Master and kill both him and Sun, she mused. That could be part of her vengeance for her master: killing two of the Jedi who had sought to kill him. She might perhaps even train a little under Yoda, lulling him into a false sense of security...And then if she happened to learn a thing or two, well...So be it. She tried not to examine how cold her thoughts were...and how uncomfortable that made her.

"I'll think about it," she said, trying to sound uninterested. If she sounded eager, it would raise Vader's suspicion. Of course, he was always suspicious of her, so that wouldn't be anything new. But she should at least try to keep Kenobi's mind off her.

"I could feel his love for you both," Obi-Wan said quietly, trying to steer the conversation back to the more important topic at hand.

"It was the way he would have wanted to die," Beru said in a sorrowful voice as she stared down at the sand. "Better death in action than in bed, he used to tell me."

"He was a krethin' fool," Owen grunted callously, though Obi-Wan suspected he was just trying to hide his inner pain. "Should've stayed here. Don't know why everyone always tries to leave Tatooine. It may be a rough life here, but it's better than the mess your lot always gets themselves into."

His words hung ominously in the air, intensifying the somberness of the occasion.


	15. Separating

They stood at the grave for about an hour before Anakin slowly drew away. He was followed by Obi-Wan, Jade, and Luke, and they moved several yards away. Beru and Owen remained by the spot Biggs had been buried in, using the privacy which had been given to them to grieve in silence.

"I am ready to go to Dagobah," Luke said softly. He turned to look at Jade. "Will you go, too?"

She hadn't been given much time to think about it, but there wasn't much reason for them to tarry. Beru and Owen would need some time to themselves, and Tatooine held nothing else for them except bad memories. She didn't respond immediately, instead turning her green eyes down to stare at the ground. The sand at her feet glittered in the sparse light given by the glowrod which hung at her waist.

Luke shifted his gaze to look at the horizon, and Anakin did the same. It was not yet time for the twin suns to rise, but it was close. Sunrise and sunset were the prettiest times on Tatooine—they were, perhaps, the only thing really worthwhile about the desert planet, Anakin reflected. Sandstorms may brew up in an instant, vaporators might bust, speeders might refuse to start—but the Tatooinian suns would always set and rise again.

"Yes," Jade said softly, breaking through the Skywalkers' reverie and causing them to turn toward her.

"I am glad, Mara," Luke said with a smile. "I wish to take this journey with you."

The redhead's pale face flushed, but she bit back whatever caustic reply she was harboring and turned away.

Anakin narrowed his eyes and studied the young woman carefully. He did not trust her. Not in the slightest.

He turned to Obi-Wan, feeling disgruntled. "I think that Jade should pilot her ship to Dagobah. The rest of us can take the Imperial shuttle."

Obi-Wan gave a slight shake of his head. "Anakin, Dagobah holds nothing for you or me—at least, not right now. You need to maintain contact with the ysalamir, and I need to check on Leia. It would be best if we simply returned to Yavin and let them see Yoda without us."

The former Sith Lord hesitated, staring down at his booted feet in contemplation. He did not want to be separated from his son, but Obi-Wan did have a valid point. Going to Dagobah with the ysalamir would hamper Yoda's training efforts. And yet, the thought of leaving Luke along with Jade made him uneasy...He trusted Yoda to keep Luke safe on Dagobah, but he wasn't sure if he trusted Jade alone in a ship with Luke. Luke was too caught up in their former associations to consider forming a proper defense against her. But it was very important for him to do so—Jade was still furious over Palpatine's death and was making no effort to hide her animosity toward the people who had brought about her master's demise. She wanted them all dead, and Anakin was surprised that she hadn't taken the opportunity to take their lives from them when they had been imprisoned by Thrawn.

Anakin slowly took in Jade's watching emerald eyes. In unconcealed hatred, they glared at him in return. He opened his mouth to launch a protest against Obi-Wan's idea but then looked at his former Jedi Master, who gazed at him calmly but expectantly. He should submit to the older man's judgment—he certainly hadn't done enough of that when he was younger. It was one of his biggest failings: a lack of trust in the decisions and advice of those who were older and wiser.

"You are right, Obi-Wan," he said softly.

Still, submission did not mean agreement, and Anakin couldn't help but turn and stare warningly at the Emperor's Hand. Her intense green eyes met his searching blue ones, and he found his emotions welling up to even higher levels. He did not even attempt to prevent his protective anger from seeping into his voice as he told her, "Do not hurt my son, Jade." _Or you will regret ever laying eyes on a Skywalker,_ he promised silently, clenching his right fist at his side.

She met his gaze unflinchingly, her body posture and facial expression both testaments to her self-confidence and ready defiance. "I will make you no promises."

Anakin's fingers shot out and gripped her throat, and he raised her in the air, his eyes as cold as durasteel. "If you hurt him in any way, Jade, I will find you, and the punishment I wreak upon you will be so terrible that not even Palpatine could have imagined it in his most twisted fantasies." His hand was shaking in barely-controlled fury.

"I'm not afraid of you." Jade somehow managed to spit out the words despite his hold on her. Her face was a stony mask, but he saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and it fed the darkness inside him.

He heard someone call his name, but he ignored the sound. He looked at Jade's hair—bloodred even in the dim light—and he thought of the hot liquid he had spilled from all those Tuskens so many years ago after failing to save his mother.

"I will not be too late this time," he growled menacingly. "If you hurt him, when I reach his side, he will stand right next to me and watch you die."

"Anakin!" a voice called. Hands were touching his shoulder.

"I will give you," he promised in a low, sinister tone, barely even noticing that Jade's face was changing color as he restricted her supply of oxygen, "the terrible death that Palpatine deserved."

And then a pair of hands pried the fingers of his right hand away from Jade's neck. He watched as her feet hit the ground and she swayed, trying not to crumple. He watched as Luke rushed to her side to steady her. He watched as relief and anger passed across Jade's face. He watched...and tried not to pounce.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan said commandingly as he moved in front of him, placing his hands on Anakin's shoulders to ensure that he had the former Sith Lord's full attention. "Control your anger. Do not try to touch the Dark Side—do not give it any control over you. Face the darkness within yourself and vanquish it."

Anakin exhaled deeply, trembling as his anger reluctantly released its clawed hold on him. He whispered in a strange confused desperation, "I will not lose him like I did them."

"You are not losing him, Anakin," the Jedi Master said gently. "The Force promises great things for his future."

The former Sith Lord looked at his son. The boy had released the frustrated Jade and was actually able to calm her down with his soft mumblings, something which was a miracle in and of itself. The only reply Anakin could manage was the sorrowful utterance: "The Force promised great things for my future, too."

* * *

When Han finally found Leia in a corridor, she was standing beside Lando and laughing about something the Cloud City administrator had said. Feeling his face grow warm, the Corellian smuggler hastened his steps. "Leia!" he exclaimed as he came up to stand beside her.

"Hi, Han," she grinned up at him.

Putting his arm around the young woman, Han looked at Lando with a smile. "Hey, Lando."

The other man took in his movement and placed his gaze on Han's face. Amusement tugging at his eyes, Lando greeted, "Han, ol' buddy!"

"He's _General Calrissian _now," the princess told Han, who gave her a bewildered expression.

"Bespin's officially a member of the Alliance now," Lando began to explain, "and it appears they heard about my little maneuver at the Battle of Tanaab. Well, the Alliance was needing a few skilled military leaders..." He flashed his bright white teeth and shrugged. "I'm not one to turn down someone in need."

"Uh huh," Han said, not convinced that Lando was being charitable. "Tired of being respectable and wanting a little action?"

The suave man smiled mysteriously. "It _has_ been a while…"

Han smirked. "And who's going to cover for you at Bespin?"

"Lobot's taking care of it. Most dependable man on my staff."

Han looked from Leia to Lando, making a quick decision. He wasn't going to keep the two of them together. "How about you go with me to my ship and we enjoy a Corellian ale together? I'm sure Leia has plenty of meetings to attend."

She smiled. "You boys go have fun. I'll be off to deal with the politicians."

Lando hesitated, which darkened Han's mood—for he knew Lando's hesitation was a result of his desire to spend more time with Leia. But finally, the caped man conceded, "Very well." Bringing Leia's hand up and kissing it, he told her, "But you must come aboard _my_ ship sometime for dinner—my cooking is unlike anything you've had on this side of the galaxy."

"Come on, you scoundrel," Han said, pulling Lando away before Leia could reply. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Finally letting up on his attempt at womanizing, Lando Calrissian grinned and allowed himself to be tugged down the hall. "All right, you jealous old space pirate. I'm coming."

* * *

Standing outside the homestead, Obi-Wan told Beru quietly, "It pains me that you have been bereaved twice."

Owen had returned to the homestead without a farewell, and the others of Obi-Wan's party had returned briefly to the newly dug grave. Obi-Wan somewhat regretted coming during such an awkward part of Tatooine's sleep cycle, but he knew Beru would have preferred to know of Biggs' death as soon as possible.

"At least Biggs got away from here before he died," the woman whispered sadly. "His whole life, he wanted to get away, and finally he did. It was all he ever wanted."

"Don't forget, Beru," the Jedi said gently, "you provided him with a foundation he was grateful for. It's just that while some people are meant for these sands, others are meant for the stars…Not even Luke would have stayed here forever."

"I know," Beru lowered her head. Tears were shining in her eyes again. "I am so glad he is not dead."

Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt and sorrow. He should've tried to console these people, should've done something to ease their sorrow...Even though wiping minds was frowned upon by Jedi ethics, wouldn't it have been the kind thing to do? Wouldn't it have been the right thing to do?

He looked at her, thinking of all the things in the past he wished he had done differently. But it was too late for all that—the choices he had made had helped transform people into what they were. The Force was not the only thing shaping destinies and individuals—decisions made by people such as him also played a part.

"I'm sorry," the Jedi couldn't help but say one more time.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Obi-Wan. You did not kill Biggs or take Luke away from me."

_No,_ thought Obi-Wan, _but I could have returned Luke back to you._ Softly, he said to Beru, "Please keep the ysalamir. Perhaps it will prove of use to you should the Skinwalker come looking for us here. Anakin already has another ysalamir, and I would feel better if you had one as well."

Beru nodded in acceptance, though her mind was lightyears away from contemplation of furred lizards and the Force. She took in a deep breath. "I'm going to Owen now. May fortune follow you." She turned toward the homestead, pausing briefly to say before continuing on her way, "...And may the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan watched her leave, his heart heavy. But there was nothing he could do or say to help, so he moved to stand at Anakin's side, facing Luke and Mara.

"Good luck to the both of you," he said, resting his gaze first on Luke and then on Mara. At an earlier time, if someone had made that statement, he would have told them that there was no luck, only the Force. Now, however, he felt as if luck might be all they had. He began walking slowly toward the Imperial shuttle, feeling as if a weight were on him.

He could hear Anakin say behind him with a sad and regretful tone, "Goodbye, son." There was a rustle of clothing, as if Anakin had moved to embrace Luke, then the young man gave his own soft goodbye, and the soft shuffle of sand heralded Anakin's walk toward Obi-Wan.

The Jedi shifted his head slightly, taking in the former Sith Lord and the ysalamir with a slight nod. "You will be with him again," he promised gently before stepping closer to the ship with the other at his side.

"Yes," Anakin acknowledged in a dejected voice. Obi-Wan knew his anger was gone, replaced by the sorrow he felt at having to separate from his son.

If only Anakin had known of the great sadness Obi-Wan had experienced when his pupil had gone so far astray...If Anakin could have felt the emotions of others more strongly than those he had held personally, would he have made the same choices?

It didn't matter, Obi-Wan told himself, willing the bitterness out of his body. Darth Vader was vanquished, Anakin was returning, and his children had survived. _That_ was what mattered.

Obi-Wan allowed himself a smile. The man who had been like a son to him was trying to fight the darkness. He might slip every now and then, but still—still there was hope.

Light began creeping over the horizon. The Tatooinian suns were beginning to rise.

* * *

"And then he fell asleep on the table in his own vomit!" Lando exclaimed, finishing the tale of a drunken Corellian diplomat as he slammed his mug down on the dejarik table.

Han laughed, taking another swig of ale. "Glad to see your sense of humor hasn't changed during your bout with respectability."

"Hey, it's more than a bout," Lando told him, pointing a finger at him, "it's a full-fledged flirtation."

Han just chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Sipping at his drink, Lando asked, "Speaking of flirtations, how _did_ you meet that beautiful young woman?"

Han felt himself suddenly stiffening. After considering the question, however, he loosened his body and smiled slyly. "Well—you remember that job you were paid to find someone for?"

The other man nodded. "Oh, yeah, how did that turn out?"

"Well, I'm rubbing elbows with a princess," the Corellian told him, looking like the pittin who ate the songbird. "...How do you think it turned out?"

Lando gaped. "_That _job—_her_?"

Han nodded smugly and crossed his arms. "Certainly the best-looking cargo I've ever had."

Lando was horrified with himself, shaking his head like a man who had just seen a dead relative walking toward him. "And to think—I just _gave _that job to you..."

The smuggler clapped his "respectable" friend on the shoulder. "Thanks for that, Lando. I really do appreciate it."

Lando's brow furrowed as he did some mental math. "You've been with her for a little while now, haven't you?" His tone was almost accusatory.

Well, he hadn't been with her the _whole_ time, but Lando didn't need to know that. "Yep," Han replied with a smirk which soon turned into a glower. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your slick paws away from her."

The Bespin administrator was still too surprised to be offended by what Han had said. "To think that such a gem slipped through my fingers..."

"It's all right, Lando," Han patted him on the shoulder. "There are plenty other blackfish in the Corellian seas."

"But none quite so radiant," Lando sighed. He took a sorrowful swig of his ale.

* * *

She shook her head in wonder. She just couldn't believe he was sleeping. And yet, there he was, sitting in the copilot's seat of her Skipray Blastboat, his eyes closed and his breathing a steady murmur which somehow managed to grate on her ears despite its soft monotony.

Truth be told, she was tired, too, but she wasn't sure she would wake up if she fell asleep. She wasn't one to leave an enemy at her back.

For a few moments, her green eyes took in Sun's tousled hair and his innocent, unassuming face. No, that wasn't true. Vader's spawn or not, she knew he wouldn't kill her, and that knowledge was strange.

As an assassin for the Emperor, she had been accustomed to seeing potential enemies at every turn. Falling asleep in the same enclosed space with someone during a mission was certainly unheard of. She'd have taken several days of stimpills before letting _that_ happen.

But somehow, with Sun, she knew it was different—even though she planned to kill him for her master, she knew he would never harbor any ill will toward her. She'd never felt the sense of dislike he'd held for Palpatine directed toward her—if anything, when he'd learned of her punishment from Palpatine before running away from Vader, he had acted almost protective toward her. That was something she _definitely_ didn't need, yet it almost made for a nice change...She had been on her own far too often, and knowing someone cared—

But no. She was Mara Jade, formerly known as the Emperor's Hand. She had extended the ruler's reach, carried out his orders, and destroyed some of the universe's most repulsive slime. She did not need to be protected, coddled, or cared about. With that resolution in mind, she finally allowed herself to close her eyes, knowing she needed to keep up her strength if she planned to execute two Force users. Still, a niggling voice in the back of her mind wondered, _What if Mara Jade _does_ need to be cared about?_

* * *

Anakin missed the Force. He felt as if he were missing one of his senses and knew the magic cure to bring it back but was forbidden to use it. His yearning for the Force, coupled with his yearning to ascertain whether Luke was surviving his trip with Jade, meant he was slipping toward a depression which was strange for him. He had been so accustomed to anger serving as his constant companion that to feel it replaced with a different emotion put him out of sorts.

He recalled some of the greatest instances of sadness in his life before he truly became Darth Vader: when he had left his mother, when Qui-Gon had died, when his mother had died, when his wife too had been taken from him...But those latter two instances had been filled with as much rage as sorrow, if not more...After leaving his youth behind when Qui-Gon died, he had been apt to grasp at the coarser emotions—envy, anger, frustration, fear...And he had not tempered those emotions; he had expressed them first verbally and then physically as in desperation he went on murderous tangents which yielded only hollow feelings of satisfaction.

And now he wished to turn away from the miseries he had caused, to atone somehow—if only minutely—for those wretched things he had done. But he wasn't quite sure how, and the Force wasn't available to give him any answers. He was alone.

No. That wasn't true. He took in the light-haired head of his former Jedi Master. The man seemed to have aged prematurely—probably due to the stress Anakin had put him through. But somehow, despite it all, Obi-Wan was back with him. He wasn't alone any more.

Anakin took in a deep breath. It was time to push away regrets and push for amends. When he got to Yavin IV, he would speak with his daughter and Obi-Wan about what he might do to help the Rebel Alliance. He winced at the mere thought of it. That was _not_ a conversation he looked forward to.

Staring out the shuttle's viewport into the blurry lines of hyperspace, he prayed that somehow, despite the presence of his new ysalamir companion, the Force would be with him.


	16. Deciding

Chinnatah and Mara's trip to Dagobah's surface was a smooth one. Chinnatah now knew where the ship needed to set down (though Mara insisted on doing all the piloting herself), and he suspected that the rough landing which the _Falcon_ had once experienced had been related somehow to Yoda. Still, until the Skipray Blastboat was firmly settled on the swampy surface, Chinnatah didn't let himself relax. When Chinnatah thought the ship was suitably secure, he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He and Mara unstrapped themselves and soon got out of the ship. It took him only a few seconds to notice she was looking at him curiously.

"Something on your mind?" she asked guardedly.

He gazed at her for a few seconds before responding. "It was hard getting down here unharmed the first time."

The redhead raised an eyebrow. "With Solo piloting, that's not hard to believe."

"He's a good pilot!" Chinnatah said, feeling defensive despite the fact that she was—as Wedge would have put it—trying to rile him up. "It was something else."

"Oh, really?" Mara asked skeptically. She crossed her arms and gave him a look that he didn't quite recognize. "Do tell."

He hesitated. "Yoda is very—"

* * *

Mara stared at Sun expectantly, waiting to hear his response.

He began tentatively, as if unsure how to explain what he meant, "Yoda is very—"

"—glad to see you are here," someone finished.

Sun jumped in surprise, and Mara Jade swirled toward their unexpected visitor with her blaster in hand. Ready to gun him down if she received an unfavorable response, she hissed out, "Who are you and what do you want?"

The creature—some sort of small green alien with pointed ears—smiled at her, not even phased by the lethal weapon which was pointed at his face. "Very wary, are you," he observed thoughtfully. "Very untrusting."

"I'm sorry, but I don't like to be ambushed by little green men," she retorted, mentally cursing her lack of caution. She hated to be caught off her guard.

"Hmm. Glad to see you, I am, Mara Jade," the being said calmly, somehow managing to look up at her face rather than down the barrel of her weapon.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked in surprise, lowering her blaster slightly.

"Know much about you, I do," the creature said with a low voice, "your pain, your suffering."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mara growled dismissively. She wasn't sure what to do with her blaster. The Force surrounded this alien in a way that surpassed even what she had felt around her master...This, then, must be Yoda. He was dangerously powerful, and she suspected a blaster would not pose any kind of threat to him. With that thought, she reluctantly put the weapon back in its holster. Another, somewhat perplexing, thought was floating around in the back of her mind: if he were this powerful, how _was _she going to kill him?

Sun finally spoke. "We are here to learn more about the Force. Will you teach us, Yoda?"

The Jedi Master nodded firmly. "Teach you, I will…But curious, am I—why came you now?"

"I'm here to learn," Mara said in a neutral voice. The barriers the Emperor had taught her to create were high. She couldn't let Yoda know why she was really here.

"What need of the Force, have you?" the creature queried. "You are no longer with your master, and teach you extensively, he did not."

The redhead gritted her teeth, reminding herself not to get _too_ angry. "He was too busy taking care of the _galaxy_ to spend most of his time on _training_."

"Hmm. But surely," Yoda said slowly, keeping his bulbous but intelligent eyes on her, "if trained, you were, help him take care of the galaxy, you could."

"That was supposed to be Vader's job!" she growled, surprising herself with how defensive she was acting. "He was supposed to _serve_ our Master—not betray him!"

"But willing to betray Vader, your Master was," the Jedi Master pointed out.

"That's different," Mara responded without thinking, immediately wishing she hadn't let the words out.

"How so?" the expected question came.

She wasn't going to take any more of this interrogation. "Will you train me, or not?"

"Only if leave your anger behind, you do," the alien told her, staring at her with those eerily wise eyes. "Help you here, it will not."

Mara stared back at him for a moment before taking in a slow, deep breath. With a reluctant exhale, she felt her anger drain from her. She had to play by this Jedi's rules to get what she wanted.

"All right," she conceded. She looked back at Sun and noticed him watching her. At her glance, his lips curved upward in a smile. She almost smiled back until she caught herself and brought her gaze to Yoda. Steeling herself, she asked him, "Where do we start?"

* * *

Obi-Wan smiled as he watched Anakin land their shuttle in the lowest level of the Great Temple. Even after all this time, the younger man still loved piloting. And he was still great at it, even without the Force.

There was a furrow in Anakin's brow, though, so Obi-Wan inquired, "Is there something wrong, my friend?"

The other man glanced sideways briefly and admitted, "Yes, there is...I wish to discuss with you and my daugh—and Leia—the possibility of my aiding the Rebellion."

"And you're nervous about what she'll say." It wasn't quite a question.

"I am."

"I will not lie to you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "It will not be an easy conversation."

"I know," Anakin sighed. "I do wish to help, though—I want to..." He trailed off.

"Make amends," Obi-Wan finished for him softly. "As do I."

Anakin looked down at his right hand, clenching it into a fist. "I have done so many foolish things in my life, Obi-Wan...I am ready to move past it all—but can my daughter look past what I have done?" He shook his head in despair. "Obi-Wan, do you sometimes wish you could go back in time and erase some of the choices you've made?"

"Come on, Anakin," the Jedi Master said gently. "Let's go."

* * *

Chewbacca and the droids came to the hangar to greet Obi-Wan and Anakin, having heard wind of their arrival. As they walked down the shuttle's ramp, the Wookiee growled a welcome to them.

"Hello, Chewbacca," Obi-Wan said with a smile.

Artoo beeped his own greeting, and Anakin said, "Hello, Artoo, Threepio, Opakwa."

The two protocol droids chimed in with their own welcome.

"Have you been keeping them out of trouble, Artoo?" Anakin asked the little droid.

Artoo made an exasperated noise, and the two humans laughed.

Chewie patted the droid's dome affectionately. After gazing briefly at Anakin's ysalamir backpack, he growled an explanation of something. As Anakin did not understand Shyriiwook without the use of the Force, he asked Threepio for a translation.

The droid readily gave it. "Chewbacca said that Captain Solo and Mistress Leia are at their special spot where they eat once a day. Chewbacca notes that one of Captain Solo's rules for the time they spend there is that comlinks are forbidden. Otherwise, we would have contacted them to tell them of your arrival."

After Threepio's translation sunk in, Anakin's heart felt heavy. He could recall the special picnics he and Padmé had shared with each other on Naboo. He could still remember what her favorite fruit to bring had been.

"Perhaps we should wait to talk to her," he said quietly. He didn't want to intrude on their private time. Such moments were precious, and one never knew when the galaxy would take away one's loved ones forever.

Chewie growled in obvious disagreement, shaking his head.

Opakwa spoke up and said helpfully, "The Wookiee disagrees with you, sir. He says that Leia Organa always goes immediately back to work after they eat. Once she has begun working, you will be unable to disturb her. Instead, you should go see her and Captain Solo directly."

"If you believe we should go to them now, we will," Obi-Wan said. "Would you mind leading us to them?"

The furry alien gestured for them to follow him, which Anakin prepared himself to do with many misgivings. As Chewbacca and the two Jedi moved forward, the droids began to follow.

Anakin turned to them. "You should stay here. There is no need for you go trudging through the jungle with us."

"Very well, sir," Threepio acknowledged.

Artoo, however, ignored the order and stayed close behind Anakin.

* * *

"Come on, Your Worship. This is supposed to be the time when you leave work behind, remember?" Han gave her a pointed look.

Leia sighed. The constant noise of running water wasn't able to ease her stress today. There was just too much on her mind. "I wish it were that easy, Han. But these Imperial attacks seem to be increasing, and people keep pushing for a battle for Coruscant, but we're just not r—" She cut off at the sight of Chewie, her father, Obi-Wan, and Artoo. Strange, how that Forceless ysalamir bubble always made her feel out of sorts. She hadn't realized that she relied on the continual presence of the Force so heavily.

"We are sorry to disturb you here," Obi-Wan began, "but we must talk with you."

Han looked perturbed. "Then talk, old man."

"I would like to help the Rebels," Anakin began uneasily. He continued speaking quickly before his daughter had the chance to protest. "I know it is not something you want to consider, but I am a skilled pilot, and I have vast resources available to me. Many of my accounts have likely been closed, but I had several secret accounts with countless credits in them. I have been carefully considering the issue. Much of that money can go toward the Rebel cause, of course. But I also would like to visit several planets I have wronged. Perhaps some of that money can go toward repairing the damage I have caused, and I hope to even convince some of the planets I visit to join the Rebel cause." He hesitated. "I heard you mention a battle for Coruscant...I know of a particular species, the Noghri, who would make skilled ground troops for such an assault. They are highly trained in stealth and would be helpful in penetrating the security of the Imperial Palace—if they would agree to help the Alliance." He stopped and took a deep breath, his spiel basically over.

Artoo made a small supportive noise, and Anakin rested a hand on his dome appreciatively. He needed all the moral support he could get.

Leia stared at him for a few seconds, protests shining in her eyes and ready on her lips. But when she finally spoke, it was only to say, "Garm Bel Iblis and Mon Mothma need to know."

Anakin inclined his head, feeling relief pass over him. He had not expected this conversation to go so easily. "I know."

"I do not like it," Leia said quietly, "but I know it will help the Alliance."

Han put his hand on her shoulder, but he didn't say anything.

* * *

Around dinner time, Mara and Sun were sent out by Yoda to find some dead wood to build a fire with. The tricky part was finding wood which wasn't rotten or water-logged.

"Why can't you let him go?" Sun asked as he stooped to pick up a piece of wood. Quickly, however, he decided that it wasn't suitable to be used as firewood, and he tossed it back to the ground with a sigh.

Mara took in a deep breath. No matter how much she tried to hide her feelings, somehow both Sun and Yoda were always able to see right through her. "He was my master, Sun."

"But you were loyal to him, not the Empire," the young man pointed out. "He's dead now."

"You can be loyal to someone even in death," she said, her mouth a thin line.

"How could you be loyal to someone who hurt you like he did?" Sun's eyes looked at her sadly. She could tell he still remembered her punishment from Palpatine.

"He made me stronger," she told him, trying to avoid his eyes.

"But what's the point of strength if you have no one to share it with you?" he persisted.

"And you always had someone to be strong with you?" Mara snorted.

"Yes," he answered. "Well, sort of...Yes."

"Even on Tatooine, when you lived with those primitives?"

Sun narrowed his eyes. "Our—their—the Ghorfa's ways may be different, but I would not call them primitive. The Ghorfa have feelings, too—it is just harder to express them freely in such a harsh environment…And I always had my mount to share things with."

Mara could sense his sudden sorrow. "Your mount?"

"My bantha mount. She—she could not...live without me." His voice sounded tight.

Mara lowered her head. She remembered hearing a story once about the intimate bonds between banthas and their riders. "I'm...sorry."

"She would have wanted me to be happy, not living in sorrow." He looked at her seriously as she stooped to pick up a semi-dry stick. "Anyone who wants you to suffer after their death is not worth suffering over."

"Thank you, O Wise One," Mara muttered. She was annoyed because a part of her wondered if he were right. "Come on, we have enough now. Let's go."

He followed her wordlessly.

* * *

"As long as he only visits planets which are not already members of the Alliance, I don't see what the problem is," Garm Bel Iblis noted, shifting in his seat. "If we're going to attack Coruscant eventually, we'll need all the help we can get."

"I don't like it any more than you do, Leia, but I don't think that we can refuse him," Mon Mothma sighed, looking down at the small conference room table in front of her. "He will no longer be in the public eye here if he's off recruiting people for the Alliance, and if he manages to convert a planet or two, we benefit."

"For what it's worth," Leia told them quietly, "I think he's sincere."

"His sincerity was never a question," Bel Iblis replied slowly. "The truthfulness of his redemption is a problem not for us, but for the masses. We trust the Jedi Kenobi's judgment, and we know that Darth Vader was never one for espionage. But most people don't remember what the Jedi once were—just what the Sith have been."

"His presence is causing divisions," Mon Mothma said seriously. "He will have this chance to redeem himself in the eyes of other members of the Alliance, but if he fails and the divisions become worse, we will have to expel him from the Alliance."

"I know," Leia acknowledged. "We need all the unity we can get."

* * *

Leia exited the conference room with Garm and Mon and made her way down the corridor to where she could sense her biological father's Forceless bubble.

He looked at her anxiously, waiting for her news.

"You have been cleared to go," she told him. "But try to watch your steps. Your presence is already causing divisions."

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Leia."

"Just be careful," she said, not looking at him.

"I _do_ want to help, Leia," he noted, a hint of a plea in his voice.

"Just make sure that your attempt to prove yourself doesn't bring about the downfall of the Alliance," Leia noted curtly.

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.


	17. Hoping

Surprisingly enough, Leia came to the hangar to see Obi-Wan and Anakin off.

Standing off at a slight distance from his mentor and daughter, Anakin wondered if perhaps Leia felt bad for her earlier hostility toward him. Quickly, however, he chastised himself. _He_ should be feeling repentant, not her. And besides, she was close to Obi-Wan, so it was only natural she would want to say goodbye to him...Anakin knew that if Luke had been here, he would have included the both of them in his farewell. The thought made the former Sith Lord strangely sad.

"Goodbye, Leia," Obi-Wan said with a smile.

She moved to hug him. "Be careful, Obi-Wan. You can't be sure how things will work out."

"Do not worry about me, young one," the Jedi said warmly. "It is I who should be saying that to you." He pulled back from the hug. "You still have a lot of work ahead of you, Leia—but I know your father would be proud of you."

She looked down at the ground. "I still miss him, Obi-Wan."

"I know. But he will live on through the work you do here..." Obi-Wan put a gentle hand on her shoulder to ensure that he had her full attention. When she finally looked up at him, he spoke. "I have noticed the Force shifting in my meditations, Leia. Please _do_ be careful."

She nodded. "I will, Obi-Wan."

He inclined his head in farewell. "May the Force be with you, Leia."

"And you, too," she returned.

Obi-Wan began walking toward and then up the borrowed shuttle's ramp, and when he had reached the top, Anakin quietly moved to follow him. But a cold question from Leia caused him to freeze in his tracks, a chill traveling down his spine.

"Why didn't you kill yourself when Mother died?"

Anakin swallowed, closing his eyes. Without turning around, he told her in an emotionless voice, "When I heard that she and our child had died, I was like a dead man. There was no need to kill myself—what I was doing could no longer be called living." He took several steps forward, but before disappearing into the ship, he told her in a low and shaky voice, "I still die inside each time I think about her death."

His punishment had been to remain living with the knowledge of what he'd done. And that had been far worse than a thousand deaths.

* * *

"The Jedi fell for a reason, Sun," Mara insisted.

The two trainees were sitting on tree roots and taking a break, as they had just gone on a long run through the swamp under Yoda's supervision. The Jedi Master had returned to their hut, allowing them some time alone for conversation and meditation.

"I don't deny that," the former Tusken said quietly, "but perhaps...perhaps they should be given the chance to rise again."

"What is to stop them from falling again? The Jedi way is flawed."

"As flawed beings, our ways will always be flawed...That does not mean..." Chinnatah paused a moment to get his bearings. Sometimes, when he got worked up, his Basic would falter. Strange how that seemed to happen a lot around Mara. "That does not mean—" he started again, "—that we should not try for what is right."

"And what _do_ you think is right, Sun?" Her piercing green eyes seemed to be staring into his very being.

"I do not know, Mara," he said carefully. "I am uncomfortable with the...dualities of the Force. To allow some emotions but to forbid others—that does not seem right to me."

She tilted her head, studying him. After a few seconds, she asked him, "Then why did you never become a Sith?"

"I think," he said slowly, "I think experiencing emotions—it is a part of being alive...But...to act on those emotions in...in a way harmful to life...I believe that is contrary to our purpose as sentient beings."

Mara crossed her arms. "And what would you say _is_ our purpose?"

"We..." He hesitated. "We are not meant to be solitary creatures...I have...discovered that."

The redhead shook her head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. "How has life given you _anything_? You were raised among a brutal people, only to be plucked from all you know to discover that a man most of the galaxy hates is your father. Why would you, of all people, desire a life with others?"

Chinnatah looked at her for a few seconds without responding. Then, tentatively, he raised up his arm to take Mara's chin in his hand, as he had seen Han do to Leia. Meeting her startled eyes, he asked simply, "How could you not?"

The air was strangely quiet, and Mara stared back at him for the briefest of moments before pulling away and standing up. Her back to him, she told him, "While serving my master, I have seen people's true sides. There is no hope for the galaxy, Sun. It is too late for redemption."

As she walked away, Chinnatah took a few steps forward. He wanted to stop her, but the right words would not come to him. All he could think of was a Tusken phrase of farewell: _Koroght gaghgt Takt_.

_Blessed be your going out from us._

But that wasn't what he wanted to say, for she wasn't really gone, just no longer by his side, and he remained sitting there in thought for almost an hour before he finally moved to return to Yoda's hut.

* * *

"Do you know why you wanted to come here first, friend?" Obi-Wan quietly asked.

As Anakin stared at the image of Honoghr in his viewscreen, he felt the all-too-familiar feeling of self-hatred start to flare up. Without the Dark Side to aid its growth, it slowly died away, but it left behind a dull ache. Perhaps he would always have that ache. "I do know why," he managed to say. "But I cannot put it into words."

He had turned the Noghri into death machines, keeping their land poisoned while pretending to aid it. Hybrid grass had been planted which would kill off all other plant life...so that the Noghri would remain in the Empire's service. How they would react when the deception was finally known, he did not know, but he did have the funds to try to help heal their planet or, perhaps, relocate them. Or even both, if they so desired.

But then, he had wronged so many places, why should one planet take precedent over the others?

Perhaps because he had hope that he would actually be able to help the Alliance if he could recruit the Noghri, for he knew of the intense security found in the Imperial Palace. That security was probably even stronger now that Palpatine was dead and Grand Moffs were gathering to fight over the reins of leadership. But even alongside that glimmer of hope in finding an ally in the Noghri was fear—he was afraid they would take none too kindly to the revelation of his deception, for they had no reason to. Once the truth was known, their faith in him would be shattered.

He would leave the ysalamir behind in the ship, more for Obi-Wan's sake than his own. He did not wish for Obi-Wan to die because of his mistakes, and he suspected that death would be what awaited them without the Force to abet them. And besides, he felt as if the Dark Side were finally starting to remove its clawed grip from him...At least, that was his hope.

* * *

"I do not believe the creation of a second Death Star would be wise," Thrawn said carefully. He was down on one knee, his chin raised and his red eyes focused on the being above him.

"Your reasoning, Admiral?" a displeased voice asked.

"Vader's presence has been causing divisions among the Rebels," the Grand Admiral noted. "To create another Death Star would give them a potential rallying point. I suggest we continue with our tactical hits, weakening their forces as we wait for them to make their attack on the Palace."

"Yes...I suppose I shall trust your judgment in this instance. You have not failed me yet."

A robed figure behind Thrawn shifted and spoke in pleased tones. "We shall soon defeat the Rebels and destroy the Jedi once and for all."

"Yes...We shall."

Thrawn lowered his head. "I have already planned a few more Rebel sites to hit."

"Very good. Rise and tell me of your plans, Admiral."

* * *

"Let him go, you must," a quiet voice said from behind her.

Startled, she turned around. She hadn't been able to sleep, so she'd merely gone pacing through the swamp. "Who?" she asked reflexively, though she knew what the answer was.

"The Emperor," Yoda answered. "The life in front of you belongs to you—not to him. His possession, you are not."

"I know that," Mara retorted, the hint of a snarl in her voice. But even _she_ was starting to doubt her allegiance—why _should_ she be loyal to a dead master? She'd had power under him, but it had not been power that drove her. She'd given him her service, but it had not been the desire for servitude that had kept her going...Could it have been the feeling that she was needed? But why would Mara Jade want to be needed by anyone?

"A great Jedi, you could become," the Jedi Master told her, "if let go of your anger and fear, you did."

"I'm not afraid," she immediately responded. She knew she couldn't deny her anger.

The small alien shook his head in disagreement. "Afraid, you are, Mara Jade. Afraid to lose the life you knew and venture into a new one."

"It's not as if the way of a Jedi is an easy one," Mara said quietly. But she couldn't believe the words she was saying—was she actually thinking about becoming a Jedi?

"Requires a great commitment, it does," Yoda nodded. He pulled his gimer stick up so he could rest his chin on it. "But capable of great commitment, you are, Mara Jade."

She had to concede that point—she had been Palpatine's most committed servant. He could command her to do anything and know that she would do her utmost to succeed. He had trusted her even more than Vader, and she had never willingly let him down.

"The dawn of a new day for the Jedi approaches," Yoda remarked. "Changed, the Order will be—know that, I do. For the best, perhaps, it is...If accepts it, he does, the new Order of Jedi will be shaped by Luke. Perhaps one day, willing to follow him, you will be."

A few years ago, she would have protested that she never needed to follow anyone other than her master. Now, she simply remained quiet, pondering the thought as one who was gaining a new perspective on life. Now that she was finally set free of her bonds, was she just going to go and snap a different pair of binders on herself?

Her thoughts went to Sun. He was the strangest person she'd ever met. Even with all the bad the galaxy had thrown at him, he still seemed to enjoy life and care for others. Could she ever feel that way? She had never been taught to care for others...Was she even capable of doing so?

The ancient Jedi Master looked at her wordlessly with his kind eyes. She felt as if he held the secrets to many of her questions—but she wasn't sure she wanted to know all of what he had to give. Could she trade the life she'd known for the life of a Jedi? And why was it that every time she thought of that question she saw Sun's unassuming face in her mind?

"I'm going to bed," she told the alien softly, and he nodded in acknowledgment. But she wasn't going to sleep.

She suspected she would be awake for most of the night.

* * *

The Noghri—who knew him by his scent, even though his physical appearance was quite different from when he'd seen them last—gave him a greeting which made him feel ashamed. They greeted him as their savior, never suspecting that in reality he was the cause of their continued grief—that he had wrought great damage on their planet which could likely never be undone.

On approaching Honoghr, Anakin had sharply taken in a breath. Apart from the occasional break of a blue body of water or a white cluster of clouds, he had seen that the planet was smothered in brown. Save for a patch of poisoned hybrid grass, there were no greens to be seen. He had always known the planet had looked like this—but to view it with his new perspective on life had made him want to run and hide in the furthest reaches of the galaxy.

But instead, here he was in the Noghri city of Nystao, standing in front of the people he had wronged, a mixture of emotions coursing through his body. He had once considered extending their allegiance to Grand Admiral Thrawn, making him their commander, but then on a whim had decided otherwise. Now, he was glad, for they would have been a powerful weapon in Thrawn's hands. And yet, here he was again, wanting to use them as a weapon—a weapon for good, this time, but still a weapon...Was he being fair to them? Or was he merely hoping to prove himself to the Rebellion?

Despite his weak protests, the Noghri had somehow managed to usher him and Obi-Wan into the Grand _Dukha_ and then toward the High Seat—but he had refused to sit down in the gleaming chair, instead standing before it uneasily. They began their ritual of honor, but after inhaling deeply he held up a hand. "Stop," he said in a loud and commanding tone.

Ever obedient, the clan leaders ceased their ritual.

"Have we displeased you, my lord?" one of the thirteen male dynasts inquired. This was an unusual occurrence—even when before them as the ever-impatient Vader, he had always withstood the full ritual.

"You have done nothing wrong," Anakin told them. His voice threatened to fail him, but he forced himself to keep speaking. "You honor me as your savior...But it is an honor of which I am not worthy. I have deceived you, and in doing so, I have dishonored myself. Under the Emperor, I committed many crimes, and this was just one of them." The former Sith Lord hesitated, swallowing nervously. His heart pounding, he looked at Obi-Wan, who nodded in gentle encouragement. "Your _kholm_-grass...is poisoned."

The Noghri continued looking at him, not daring to speak or even breathe as they heard his words.

"We were never truly trying to save your planet. We simply tried to devastate it further so that you would remain in the service of the Empire. I was not your savior; I was your destroyer."


	18. Waiting

Anakin and Obi-Wan were waiting aboard their shuttle, the latter seated and the former pacing nervously. The Noghri had instructed them to leave and await the judgment of a council. It had already been several hours since the two Force users had entered the ship, and Anakin was certain his heart would stop beating if it took several more.

Obi-Wan had tried several times to calm him down, but they were back with the ysalamir, and that meant the Force could not help the younger man attain any inner peace. And so he paced, trying to release his anxiety through expenditure of energy.

When a Noghri at last came aboard their ship to fetch them, Anakin stopped pacing, frozen in place.

"Follow me," the Noghri said to them in his gravelly voice, his demeanor serious but otherwise unreadable.

Obi-Wan stood immediately and stepped toward him, but Anakin looked at the Noghri for a few seconds before moving forward. As Vader, he had viewed the Noghri as efficient, lethal, and sentient monsters. With their brown skin, sharp teeth, and animallike noses, they looked like creatures that had escaped from some child's nightmare. He had quickly learned of their customs, their matriarchal structure, their honor system, their notions of loyalty…He had scoffed at it all, believing it the doings of a primitive culture. It was only now that he understood the value of the Noghri way of living. It was only now that he understood the value of a community.

Anakin and Obi-Wan followed the Noghri. It was possible they were going to their graves, Anakin thought, a chill traveling down his spine. Though he had explained the entire situation to the Noghri—how neither party in the space battle that had ravaged their planet and released a toxin had intended to harm Honoghr or its inhabitants, how Honoghr's problems would probably not have simply resolved themselves even if the Empire had not interfered, how he was a different person now than he had been then—he knew that what must stick out most in their minds was his betrayal. He only hoped they would spare Obi-Wan's life…Or that Obi-Wan would be able to escape.

They had walked probably fifteen feet before both Force users had frozen.

There was a dark tremor in the Force.

The disturbance was so brief that, had Obi-Wan not also sensed it, Anakin might have dismissed it as occurring in his imagination. But no—it was real. But what it meant, Anakin did not know.

He exchanged the smallest of glances with the older man before they both continued moving, as their Noghri escort had stopped as well to look at them.

What could it mean?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. He needed all his wits about him, but in this brief time while he was away from the ysalamir, he would be certain to be alert to changes in the Force.

* * *

Yoda closed his eyes and dipped his head. There had been a powerful disturbance in the Force.

He reached out, trying to determine the cause of the disturbance, but the Force held no answers for him; whatever the disturbance had been, it was gone.

He would simply have to wait until the Force was ready to reveal the disturbance to him. Taking in a deep breath, he brought his focus back to the present.

* * *

The council of Noghri stared at them as they entered. Despite their small stature (most of them were under or barely over five feet tall), they managed to look both impressive and intimidating at the same time. Neither of the two humans needed the Force to sense the gravity of these proceedings.

Anakin had not taken very many steps before he fell to his knees and then prostrated himself in the way of the Noghri. A few seconds of silence passed as the Noghri contemplated his position.

"How do we know you are even Vader?" one of the Noghri elders mewed, cutting to the chase. She gestured at him. "You smell like him, but it is possible this is a deception."

Not moving from off the floor, Anakin told her, "Vader was forced to wear a suit to survive. I have been healed somewhat, but still I require the aid of machines to live...I am sure you have smelled the stench of machinery on me." He swallowed. "But you already know who I am. Very few people know of your existence, and you know my scent well enough to discriminate between me and an imposter."

"You are certainly wise like Vader," the elder acknowledged. "But if you are Vader, then you know of our capabilities, and you know that coming here with such ill news cannot bode well for you."

Lifting his head slightly, Anakin gave a nod. "I have wronged you. Of that, I am well aware. I have wronged many people in the galaxy, and I can never hope to atone for all of my bad deeds. But I do intend to try. I have tried to take on my old life as Anakin Skywalker…I would like to help you heal Honoghr—truly, this time—as part of my penance. But if you decide that my death would better serve your people…" He raised his eyes to meet Obi-Wan's wise blue ones. "Who am I to stop you?" He swallowed and lowered his head, his heart heavy.

"You have said little of your companion," a different, slightly smaller, elder spoke up, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan. "Stranger, who are you, and what is your purpose?"

The older man gave a small bow. "I am Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Several of the Noghri hissed in surprise. The elder who had just spoken stated suspiciously, "The Jedi are Vader's enemies."

"They were initially my friends," Anakin said in a quiet voice that was nonetheless audible by all the Noghri present. "Obi-Wan was initially my master till Palpatine turned me against him."

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Anakin—Vader—has turned back to the Light Side—to the good side. I assure you, he is truly repentant. He wants to help your planet, not just out of concern for himself, but out of concern for your people. Is it not right that when we have wronged someone we try to right that wrong?"

"If we have been deceived once, how do we know that we are not being deceived again?" an elder pointed out.

"You do not," Obi-Wan said honestly, meeting the stern gazes of the Noghri. "We simply give you our word of honor."

"The Noghri can supervise the rehabilitation of the planet," Anakin added a few seconds later, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I have already ordered a shipment of new decon droids, and I can teach your finest technicians the workings of the droids, instructing them on the difference between the new ones and the ones which have been poisoning your world..." He looked at Obi-Wan, unsure what more he could do.

The Noghri began muttering to each other in their native tongue of Honoghran.

"Vader had full use of your services before now," Obi-Wan pointed out. "He gains nothing by revealing his deception and risks losing everything."

"Your point is taken, Jedi," one of the Noghri elders mewled. "But we suspect there is indeed something you want."

"And you would be right," the Jedi Master acknowledged with a nod. "We do have a request. However, the choice to do or not do as we wish remains your own; we will help your planet regardless of your decision. After our visit here, we plan to visit other planets in an attempt to gather allies for the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Palpatine has been defeated, but there are still strong Imperial forces to be dealt with."

"The Noghri make skilled ground forces," Anakin ventured. "I do not wish to send you out to die again and again, as I have done before…I would simply like for you to aid the Rebels in their battle for Coruscant. They need your help more than the Empire ever did." He looked at Obi-Wan hesitantly. He could've used the Force to communicate with the other man, but the slight nod of trust given by Obi-Wan was enough to make Anakin continue. "Aboard the ship, we…we have an ysalamir—a creature which blocks our use of the Force. Without the Force, we stand no chance against your warriors…If you would like to hold off on your decision until you witness further proof, you may send a few of your people with us. We shall be visiting other planets, so I may try to help them and enlist their aid for the Alliance…Perhaps then you would be able to trust me."

* * *

Mara and Sun were both standing upside-down on their hands, their faces showing the enormous strain they were in. Several large stones were levitating in the air above them.

"Use the Force," Yoda was saying encouragingly. He was standing on the ground in front of them, and he tapped Sun's right arm and Mara's left with his gimer stick.

They each lifted an arm so that they were standing on one hand, and with the Force they moved the rocks so they were on top of each other in a line.

Sun's astromech began beeping frantically, but Yoda ignored him. "Feel the stones…Yes…"

The droid continued whistling insistently.

"Artoo…" Sun gritted. "What's wr—" But talking to Yoda and hearing the distraught R2 unit was apparently too much for him, and he toppled over, his arms flying out and clipping Mara's arm.

"Concentrate!" Yoda ordered belatedly as he fell, quickly moving out of the way.

"Sun!" Mara exclaimed in a half-growl as she too lost her concentration and fell to the ground.

She jumped to her feet even faster than he did. "Be careful next time," she hissed, her green eyes narrowed at him.

"I'm sorry," Sun responded, looking truly repentant. He turned his gaze to the astromech unit. "What's wrong, Artoo?"

The little droid scooted forward toward the edge of the swamp, drawing the former Tusken's gaze to the lake where his and Mara's transport had just sunk. Only the tip of the Skipray Blastboat was visible.

Sun muttered a Tusken curse under his breath, while Mara muttered a Huttese one. Startled, they looked at each other for a moment before looking away.

"We'll never be able to get that out," Mara sighed a moment later. "It just figures that I would be forced to live out the rest of my life on this forsaken planet with _you two_."

Sun gave her a hurt look, but she did her best to ignore it.

"So certain, are you," the small Jedi Master said, shaking his head. "Always with you, it cannot be done. Hear you nothing that I say?"

Mara looked at him for a few seconds before turning her gaze to Sun and then to the ship. "Lifting a bunch of rocks is one thing. This…" She snorted. "This is completely different."

"No!" Yoda insisted. "No different. Only different in your mind. You must unlearn what you have learned."

Mara looked at Sun, who shrugged. No help there. "Fine," she said, gathering her resolve. "I'll try."

"No," Yoda told her. "Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try."

"It figures you would say that," Mara muttered to herself. She raised her hand and stared at the ship, concentrating. With her mind, she willed the ship to move, and after shuddering it began slowly rising out of the water. Perspiration began to break out on her forehead, and the whisper of a smile touched her lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Sun's droid whistling in surprise, but then suddenly the effort was too much, and she dropped the ship. Panting heavily, she told the Jedi, "It's—it's too big." How she'd even managed to budge it was beyond her comprehension.

But the Jedi Master would not accept her excuse. "Size matters not," he told her in a tone that was scolding. "Judge me by my size, do you? Hmmm?"

The redhead looked at him for a moment. "No. I suppose not."

"And well you should not—for my ally is the Force…And a powerful ally, it is. Life creates it, makes it grow…Binds us and surrounds us, its energy does. Luminous beings are we—" he pointed to his flesh with his gimer stick, "—not this crude matter." He moved his cane in a sweeping gesture, calling their gazes to wander across the swamp. "You must feel the Force around you…Here, between us all…the tree…the rock…everywhere!" He inclined his head. "Yes, even between this land and that ship."

"You're wanting the impossible," Mara snorted. She was about to walk away, but then on impulse she paused to watch Yoda turn his head and give Sun a meaningful look.

Sun closed his eyes. He did some sort of hand motion she didn't recognize before finally raising his right hand and holding it in the air as Mara had done. But there was an expression of peace on his face that had not been on hers, and she sensed the Light Side surrounding him as he reached out to the Skipray Blastboat with the Force.

Slowly, the ship began to rise. It was lifted into the air above the lake and came flying over their heads. Artoo whistled in fear and moved away so as not to be underneath it when it landed. As the Skipray Blastboat settled down onto the shore, Mara released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Sun opened his eyes, looking at the ship with a strange sort of serene puzzlement.

Mara shook her head in astonishment. She had seen the Emperor do some amazing things with the Force, but this…

"I don't believe it," she said quietly.

"That is why you fail," Yoda responded, closing his eyes and lowering his head.

As Sun moved forward to ask Yoda a few questions about the Force, Mara stared at him. Finally, she could understand how this boy could be expected to resurrect a nearly extinct order. She had not known he possessed such power, such trust in the Force…She felt her admiration for him increase. She had known he'd had a foolishly kind heart—but now she saw how he might one day be able to lead people.

Still, she reflected, it would be difficult for him to discipline any of his followers. For that, he would need someone willing to be harsh to people when they needed it. _Like you_, a small voice in her head suggested, but she wiped the thought away instantly. She was here for the Emperor…She meant to kill these two Jedi when she had gotten all she needed from them.

Sun, who was listening to Yoda, looked at her briefly and flashed a smile before returning his attention to his Jedi Master.

In that moment, Mara Jade began to seriously doubt whether she'd be able to pull off the death of the two Force users. Not because she thought them too powerful, but because she thought she wouldn't be able to bring herself to do it.

Had they ever truly done anything to wrong her? The question sat uneasily in her gut.

* * *

Han popped into Leia's office with a big grin on his face and a giant basket in his hand. "I've got a pretty impressive array of fruits this time, princess," he said cheerfully.

"Han," Leia sighed, looking up from her datapad. "I'm sorry. I can't do this today." She gestured at her messy desk. "I have all these member charters to look over, and—"

Han broke in, "Even diplomats have to eat."

Leia shook her head, moving her eyes back down to her datapad. "I'll eat later, Han."

"No, Your Worship," he said slowly, a furious edge to his voice, "you'll eat _now_."

"Han," Leia gritted, getting angry herself. "I _can't_ eat now. I have _too_ much to do…I'm sorry. We'll do this tomorrow."

The smuggler shook his head, looking disgusted. "You're going to run yourself into the ground, sweetheart. And if you aren't careful, there's going to be nobody around to dig you out." He threw the basket onto the ground in front of her desk, and a few red fruits spilled out, rolling across the floor. "I'll be in the hangar. Maybe it's about time that I got the _Falcon_'s hyperdrive into working order."

"Han," Leia tried to call out after him, but he was already gone.

Grabbing a blank datacard from off her desk, she threw it at the closed door.

* * *

Sitting in the pilot's seat and staring into the blur that was called hyperspace, Anakin absentmindedly stroked the ysalamir sitting in its backpack in the chair beside him. The council had gone better than he'd expected but worse than he'd hoped. The Noghri had refused to immediately believe him, sending four warriors from different clans along with Anakin and Obi-Wan. Two of them followed Obi-Wan around, while the other two were assigned to Anakin. Anakin's were called Airakh clan Khim'bar and Plakhmil clan Baikh'vair. So far, they hadn't proved themselves to be very sociable, and Anakin didn't feel comfortable talking openly with Obi-Wan in their presence, so the hyperspace ride was fairly quiet. Still, his hope that they would help the Alliance remained, and perhaps he would be able to enlist further aid at the next planet he visited…

He sighed. He was no diplomat—never had been. That had always been Padmé's area—and apart from her and Palpatine, he had hated politicians.

And now, here he was, wishing he had the skills of one as he reopened old wounds in hopes of helping them heal properly.

He wondered how his children were doing…Leia was probably busy planning the galaxy's future as the smuggler and his Wookiee friend kept a close eye on her. She was undoubtedly safe. Now, Luke…

His thoughts darkened. Though Luke was under the care of the ever-powerful Yoda, he was also working alongside the Emperor's Hand. If she tried anything, it would probably be far too late for Yoda to intervene. The Emperor had trained her well.

And yet…

He knew that somewhere beneath that cold exterior Mara Jade possessed a heart. The Emperor's goal with her had been to turn her into his slave, not the Dark Side's. If anyone could bring out the good in a person, he believed his son could.

But the Emperor was a hard master to break away from. Even after Palpatine's death, Anakin had felt his hold on him. Perhaps he would feel it forever.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, praying to the Force that his son would be all right. At least Luke would never have to feel Palpatine's iron grip squeezing the life out of his soul…

Though behind him, Plakhmil sensed—or perhaps smelled—the change in his demeanor and queried, "Anakin clan Skywalker…There is something wrong?"

"No," Anakin replied. He hesitated before amending, "Well, it's just that I'm worried about my son. He—he should be all right, but…I wish I were with him, so I could protect him."

Plakhmil studied him for a moment before talking again. "We cannot be with members of our clans all the time. We must simply trust that they will make wise choices in our absence…" He tilted his head. "I am beginning to think you are sincere, Anakin clan Skywalker. Vader worried about no one."

"Plakhmil," Airakh hissed, "be silent." He was the older of the two Noghri, more reserved and untrusting than Plakhmil. Anakin didn't really know Obi-Wan's assigned Noghri very well, as the Jedi Master had spent much of his time in the back of the ship, but he suspected that Airakh was the most respected of the four Noghri. Airakh, then, was the one he had to convince of his sincerity.

"Airakh clan Khim'bar," Anakin said quietly, "please do not be harsh on your companion. He is right—Vader had no one to care about, and the moment he finally did, he ceased being Vader."

"You speak of yourself as a new person," Airakh noted, "but we shall see." He said no more.

Anakin turned his eyes back to the ysalamir. It was so frustrating that the Noghri did not understand the truths he now held. But because he had passed off so many lies as truths, that was simply the way it had to be. If he been able to inspire loyalty _without_ deceit and fear…But he had to live with his past. What-ifs only brought heartache.

Sometimes, he felt like his entire life was filled with nothing but what-ifs.


	19. Giving

After Sun and Mara had finished some exercises, they went to Yoda's hut, hoping to have a little downtime from Jedi training. They were tired and sweaty, but when they found the Jedi Master motioning for them to come inside, they did as instructed. They were barely able to both fit in the small dwelling, but the even smaller Jedi Master didn't seem to notice.

Instead, with a strange intensity he gestured the two Jedi apprentices forward until they stood in front of a small wooden chest. "Create lightsabers now, you will," he said softly. "In times past, find your own parts, you would." He smiled sadly, reminiscing about years long gone. "But we shall do what we must."

The wizened being stepped out of their way, indicating with gnarled fingers that they should peruse the contents of the chest. They both peered inside, discovering all manners of lightsaber parts resting inside the chest, but their eyes were immediately drawn to the assortment of colorful crystals. There was something significant in their presence, as if the Force were pulsating in them, beckoning the two to grab hold of the crystals.

"One to three focusing crystals, you may use," their master informed them. "Before you, a very important choice lies. When chosen your crystals, you have, meditate over them, you must, imbuing them with the Force. When done, you are, to this trunk, you will return, gathering the rest of the parts you require. Construct your sabers, you shall, and when finished, practice with them together under my guidance, you shall."

Sun nodded in acknowledgment and eagerly began to run his fingers across the various crystals, opening himself up to the Force for the answer to his quest for the perfect one.

Mara hesitated, resisting the urge to turn and stare at the strange green alien in disbelief. Standing stiffly and gazing into the chest, she wondered—did Yoda know what kind of power he was giving her?

Right now, she had only blasters and vibroblades, weapons that would be of no use to her in a fight against these two Force users. And here he was, placing before her the chance to create a lightsaber, the exact weapon that Vader had used to slaughter Jedi years before she'd entered the Emperor's service. What was more—she was no slouch with a lightsaber. She had always suspected that Palpatine gave her the weapon only when absolutely necessary because he had known of her potential for greatness with the elegant blade.

And now, this Jedi was not only helping her create a blade that was meant to act as a part of her very being, but he was also going to train her how to properly use it. How was it that these Jedi could trust so much?

She wanted to mentally condemn them for it, to write them off as pathetic, to scoff at their foolish inclination to place their lives in the hands of other beings...But she couldn't.

Instead, she found herself fascinated with the notion of trusting another being wholeheartedly. Could _she_ ever do that?

As she watched Sun clench his chosen crystal in his hand, she felt the minutest of smiles break the stolidness of her face. Perhaps she could.

The young man moved his dancing blue eyes to her face, a grin moving the corners of his mouth upward. She felt her smile grow at the happiness she could feel radiating off him, and her hand, as if of its own volition, came up to rest on his shoulder. There was one person she could trust her life to. Of that, she had no doubt.

* * *

A half-hour before they were to exit hyperspace, Obi-Wan and his two Noghri escorts returned to the cockpit. No words had been spoken in the cockpit for several minutes.

"Anakin," the old Jedi said softly.

Anakin twisted in his seat to look at the older man, his eyes widening at the sight of Obi-Wan's outstretched palm. A lightsaber lay in it. Its appearance tugged at his memories, and his brow furrowed.

"I have been creating a new lightsaber for myself," Obi-Wan explained. "It is now finished. With what lies ahead, I know that you, too, will need a lightsaber… I want you to take Qui-Gon's saber. I have been keeping it safe all these years, and now, I would like you to have it. One day, you will be able to build a new blade to match your new self."

Slowly, Anakin took the lightsaber handle from his master's hand. The reason for Obi-Wan's avoiding the cockpit—where the ysalamir was located—was finally clear. "Where have you been keeping it?" he wondered aloud as he stared at the decades-old Jedi weapon. "Our sabers were taken from us—surely they wouldn't have missed noticing this one if you'd had it with you..."

"Fortunately, I left it on Coruscant during that incident," the older Jedi explained. "On the Force's prodding, no doubt."

Anakin ran his fingers along the lightsaber's black ridges. Swallowing, he extended the blade, twisting it in his hand to experience the feel of the new weapon. Though he could not reach to the Force for guidance, he felt deep within his very being that he never wanted to replace this saber with a new one. With the possession of this saber, it would be as if Qui-Gon were always watching over him. The saber could serve as a reminder of his pre-Vader self—of his pre-Force self—and of the man who had always believed there was good in him.

Extinguishing the emerald blade, Anakin bowed his head. "Thank you, Obi-Wan." The gesture meant a lot to him.

His master took a few steps forward and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're welcome, Anakin."

* * *

Leia was reading through a membership charter when Winter quietly entered her office.

"Your Highness," Winter said, giving a regal bow.

The brown-haired woman shook her head with a smile. "Sisters don't use that kind of formality."

"You are Alderaan's princess, Leia," the other woman said warmly and sincerely. "Not me."

Knowing that arguing would not get her anywhere, Leia ventured, "What brings you here?"

There was a flicker of emotion on Winter's otherwise stoic face. "I wished to inform you that Captain Solo has requested clearance to leave."

Leia stiffened. "What?" She was barely able to keep from shouting the word.

"He will be leaving in approximately thirty minutes…"

The Rebel leader's mouth was set in a thin line. "Thank you, Winter." She turned her eyes back down to her desk and grabbed her datapad with an overly-firm grip.

But Winter didn't move despite the clear dismissal. "He wanted me to tell you goodbye."

Leia dropped the datapad. She quickly muttered something and picked it up, only to set it back down again. Swallowing, she managed to ask, "He did?"

"Yes." Winter paused for a moment. "He wanted me to wait until he was gone, but I couldn't." She walked toward her friend and set her hand on the distraught woman's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You should go to him, Leia. Swallow your pride this time."

The princess took in a deep breath and then exhaled. "All right."

* * *

After they exited hyperspace, Kashyyyk loomed before them. Quietly, contemplatively, Anakin stared at the verdant planet.

He had helped Tarkin subdue the Wookiees, had helped the Empire make slaves of the honorable race. At the time, he had been interested in the presence of Jedi on the planet, while Tarkin had been interested in enslaving the Wookiees. Even as Vader, he had detested slavery with all his being, but still he had never made any move to stop it…

He had not told anyone on the ship of their next destination, and no one had ventured to interrogate him or check the controls and find out. Perhaps that choice was unwise, but he had been mentally preparing plans for their arrival.

Phase one of his plan suddenly began as he was hailed by an Imperial. He sent back the proper authorization codes, praying they hadn't been changed, and exhaled in relief when he was given clearance to land his ship. Getting on the planet without attracting attention had been the first desired step.

His companions (all of whom had gathered in the cockpit) were rather quiet for several seconds, contemplating the significance of arriving at this particular destination. Airakh was the first to speak. "Kashyyyk is an _Imperial_ planet. Do you know what you are doing?"

Anakin gave a sad smile. "I always do tend to act before thinking. But I do know what I am doing—I helped enslave the Wookiees, and now I am going to free them…This will be a dangerous endeavor, and I do not expect you to go with me. I will give you the proper departure codes, and after we have landed and I have left the ship, you may leave without me. I will find a way off the planet somehow."

Plakhmil made a strange noise. "We are not cowards, Anakin clan Skywalker. If you wish to free Imperial slaves, we shall aid you."

One of Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts agreed. "Having lived a life akin to that of slavery, we know of slavery's harsh toll. We would be honored to break the Wookiees' bonds."

Anakin opened his mouth to protest—he didn't want to put any of them in danger—but a look from Obi-Wan stopped his words. He knew what the Jedi was thinking: what better way to prove his good intentions than this? "I would be honored to accept your help."

His plans would have to be altered now, but he knew it was for the better.

* * *

Leia caught Han as he was carrying a container up the _Falcon_'s ramp. When she called out his name, he froze, but he didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry about the picnic," she said, her voice quieter now that she had his attention.

He turned to look at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You don't get it, do you?" He moved to set the container down at the top of the ramp and then walked back down half the ramp so he could see her better. "It's not about the picnic."

"Then what is it about, Han?" She was tired of fighting with him.

He continued all the way down the ramp to tell her heatedly, "It's about priorities, princess. All you have time for is this ragtag organization of yours. Yeah, the Empire's bad, and it's good to fight it, but what's the point if you lose your humanity in the process?" He stared at her for a moment, looking for some sort of sign, but evidently he didn't find it, as he exclaimed, "Bah!"

When he turned to leave, Leia pleaded, "Han, please don't go."

He twisted his head to look at her. "And why would you care about what I do?"

Leia began to prepare a stinging response, but her anger was extinguished as she saw the regret behind the smuggler's perturbed mask. "Because I love you."

For a long moment, their eyes were locked, and a multitude of conflicting emotions passed from one set of eyes to the other.

And then Han was breaking their link, turning away from her in rejection. "It's only in fairytales that pirates and princesses get married," he said, his voice caustic yet sorrowful.

Frustrated that he was pushing her away, Leia retorted, "Oh, and what would _you_ know about fairytales?"

Han twisted his torso to glare at her, shaking a finger at her. "I didn't just spring out of bed overnight a scoundrel. I was a kid once, too, you know."

Leia scoffed, "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

He stepped toward her. "You know, I have dreams, too, Your Worship. You're not the only one who—" And then he was cutting himself off from her again, telling her, "Just forget it."

As he began to walk up into his ship and out of her life, Leia's anger died down again, suddenly replaced by an intense sadness. As she advanced in desperation toward the _Falcon_'s ramp, she called out after him, "Han?"

He stopped but refused to look at her. "What? Afraid I was going to leave without giving you a goodbye kiss?" The bitterness in his voice was easily apparent.

Trembling, Leia took in a deep breath. "Do—do you really think that princesses and pirates don't get married?"

His eyes found hers and discovered the shine of moisture in them. He took a few steps down toward her. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Leia swallowed. "I—I think that maybe they could."

His hands somehow found hers, and with a slight tremor the smuggler said quietly, "Well, what do you say, Leia? Do you think a princess like you and a guy like me…?"

Even though he trailed off, they both could sense the feeling of significance that was hanging in the air. Han's question was not meant to be taken as a simple one, and they both knew it.

Leia threw herself into Han's arms, squeezing him tightly. "Yes…Yes, Han. I will marry you."


	20. Planning

**Author's Note:**** Some of the in-universe stuff in this chapter is made up—Wookieepedia only gives so much.**

* * *

Anakin self-consciously tugged at the collar of the Imperial uniform he was wearing. It was a bit of an awkward fit, as he'd had to find an oversized uniform that could cover the necessary parts of his life-suit, but with a little use of the Force he knew he could detract attention from his appearance. He had also found another uniform in the _Lambda_-class shuttle's compartments, and Obi-Wan was wearing it, looking perhaps even more uncomfortable than Anakin felt. Fortunately, whoever had stocked the ship had also left behind rank insignia; whether that was the doing of the Rebels or the Imperials from which the Rebels had stolen the ship, Anakin wasn't sure, but with a little bit of concentration and a judicious use of tools, he was able to jury-rig a pair of insignias together so that they looked like that of an admiral's. On close inspection, it wouldn't fool any but the stupidest of observers, but Anakin didn't intend for anyone to be taking it off him to examine it. After pinning the admiral insignia to himself, he walked over to the pilot's chair where Obi-Wan was bringing the ship down and handed the man one of the lesser insignias he'd found.

The Jedi looked at him in amusement, realizing what he was doing. "So, the older and wiser man gets to be underneath the more youthful and brash man?"

Anakin gave him an expression that was surprisingly close to a grin. "I know more about Imperial procedure than you do, Master—it is a smart, tactical move."

"And I bet it also makes you feel good," Obi-Wan muttered. But his eyes were glimmering in amusement—they were replicating their younger days, when banter between the two had been common and light-hearted. It wasn't the same now—it could never be the same again—but still, it felt _good_.

"Perhaps it would be best if you flank us like bodyguards," Anakin suggested to the Noghri. "In the event that the ship is searched in our absence, it is best that we don't have extra members of our party discovered to be in hiding."

"We understand," one of Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts acknowledged quietly.

The ship had touched down gently on the ground, and Anakin, with only a bit of trepidation, moved over to the shuttle door and let down the ramp. His eyes almost immediately rested on an Imperial welcoming party. Evidently, the head of the planet's garrison was wondering what business they could possibly have on Wookiee Planet C. None of the Stormtroopers had their blasters up, but they were all alert.

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the Noghri were soon down the ramp and standing in front of the garrison's commander. The two Force users and the commander saluted each other. Anakin tried to keep his attention on the Imperial in front of him, resisting the urge to look around. Apart from some large shallow seas, Kashyyyk was basically covered in massive kilometers-high wroshyr trees. The garrison was located on the seventh level, along with most of the Wookiee civilization, as the lower levels were very dangerous. Even when he'd been here as Vader, he had been a bit impressed with the wroshyr trees, especially since it was their branches that held most of Kashyyyk's cities aloft.

"Major General Arkent," Anakin greeted unhesitatingly, pulling the shorter man's name from his mind with the Force. "I am Admiral Cosco. I wonder if I might speak with you in private?" Away from the ysalamir now, he relished the feel of the Force washing over him. He was really beginning to appreciate its presence, and he found that he had less of a desire to control it and use it and more of a desire to simply _feel_ it.

"Of course, Admiral," the garrison leader acquiesced. He had mousy brown hair and a slight frame, and worried wrinkles were creating small furrows on his forehead. Anakin could sense the nervousness pouring off the Imperial as he gestured them forward. With his Stormtroopers and aide close behind, he took Anakin and his party into the garrison base. Anakin didn't have to study it to know that this was one of the prefabricated ones that the Empire often deployed on Imperial worlds. He did almost wince, however, at the realization of how out of place the inorganic base looked on the highly organic world.

When they were finally standing inside his office, Arkent requested that the Stormtroopers and his aide wait outside the room. The door slid shut with a slight hiss.

"What is the purpose of your visit, Admiral?" the major general queried, his voice betraying only a slight quiver.

"The Empire is taking on another...project," Anakin said vaguely, watching the other man's eyes widen at the significance of his statement. Wookiees had been involved in the creation of the Death Star, so the man was probably assuming that another Death Star was going to be created to replace the destroyed one. "We have been sent to examine the Wookiees and determine whether or not they are fit to serve as workers. We wish to observe the Wookiees without being hindered...Our presence here is unofficial, and you will understand if we ask you to keep your people away from us, that we might observe the Wookiees at our leisure."

Major General Arkent nodded vehemently. "Yes—_yes_. I will make sure you that no one bothers you. We have some of the aliens working on a desk-making project with Kashyyyk-wood. Perhaps you could start observing their strength and dexterity there..."

Anakin nodded in understanding, though he winced inwardly at the indignity the Wookiees were being forced to suffer; Kashyyyk-wood was often used to make desks for lower-ranking Imperials, while higher-ranking Imperials usually had desks made out of rarer materials such as Laroon wood. For Wookiees to be reduced to making _furniture_ for their captors...

The officer's eyes moved to the Noghri standing behind them, and he asked uneasily, "Admiral, if I might be so bold—what are those creatures?"

"These are my bodyguards," Anakin stated offhandedly. "They are the best in the business, and they are also to be allowed to come and go as they please."

Arkent nodded again. "I have been considering getting bodyguards of my own. I wonder—"

"We choose who we will offer our services to," one of the Noghri—Airakh clan Khim'bar, Anakin thought—mewled. "We will not be hired by just anybody."

"Why, y-y-yes, of c-course," the garrison commander stuttered. Anakin could tell that he found the Noghri very unsettling—not that he could really be blamed. Their appearance _was _quite intimidating. "Would—would you like me to provide you with an escort who is familiar with Wookiee Planet C?"

Anakin shook his head. "We have been acquainted with the layout of this planet and do not need any such help. However, should we find ourselves with any questions, we will be sure to contact you."

"Would you like my private comlink code?" the younger man asked, tentative but eager to please.

Anakin hesitated for the minutest of moments before inclining his head. "Yes."

A few minutes later, they were walking out of the garrison, heads held high as they ignored the several pairs of curious eyes on them.

"You handled that very well," Obi-Wan commented quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you." The briefest of smiles brushed Anakin's lips before disappearing. "I think I might have an idea, but we will need to talk to some Wookiees first."

* * *

Mara and Sun both left Yoda's hut, going to separate but nearby regions to meditate over their lightsaber crystals. Mara went to a quiet spot which she was fond of and sat cross-legged on a fallen tree. She clenched her two chosen focusing crystals, marveling at the feel of them in her hands.

Before she and Sun had left Yoda's hut, the small Jedi Master had pressed a krayt dragon pearl into Sun's hand. If Sun was very careful in his lightsaber's construction, Yoda had noted, he would be able to use the pearl as a second focusing crystal. With two crystals, it would be possible to create a dual-phase lightsaber, the blade of which could be extended to double its original length when activated. In addition, using two crystals meant one could employ a bifurcating cyclical-ignition pulse that would enable one to use a lightsaber underwater. Considering the pervasive moisture of Dagobah, having a lightsaber that wouldn't deactivate due to getting wet was a bright idea if Mara had ever heard one.

The young redhead didn't envy Sun his special 'crystal,' interestingly enough—she was perfectly content with the two she had chosen before he'd been given the pearl. It was strange, perhaps, but it felt as if they had been _meant_ for her. She wouldn't have wanted any two other crystals.

She closed her eyes, placing the crystals onto her lap. She touched the Force and tried to gently _fill_ the crystals with it; as she did so, she felt a great peace come down over her, a warm veil of contentment that was relaxing rather than suffocating.

Her green eyes shot open in surprise. Was _this_ what it meant to use the Light Side—this sense of absolute peace? How different it was from the turmoil inherent in the Dark Side—how...right.

The crystals seemed to pulsate on her lap, as if aware that a change had come over her. She looked down at them with a furrowed brow.

Suddenly, she _wanted_ to be a Jedi.

* * *

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the four Noghri did not walk far before coming across Wookiees hard at work cutting down trees. It took a lot of backbreaking work for Wookiees to take down as many trees in a day as they were expected to. The giant trees were not felled at the base, for the bases of wroshyr trees were located in the Shadowlands, a dangerous region that was thick with monsters. Instead, Wookiees went to the fifth level of Kashyyyk civilization and cut the trees from there. They had to be careful, however, not to cut down any trees that had structural significance for the cities above, and when they did cut down the top portion of a tree, they had to carefully lower it to the fifth level and then cut it into smaller sections to make it easier to transport.

A younger Wookiee paused in his sawing, exhausted with the work of having just helped lower part of a tree, and an Imperial officer hit him with a shock whip. "Continue, you worthless animal!"

As electricity coursed throughout his body, the Wookiee cried out in pain. That simply caused the Imperial to hit him again.

Another Wookiee, angry at the treatment of the small Wookiee, broke away from his work to growl in protest, only to receive a lashing himself. The Imperial officer was relentless this time, repetitively lashing and finally bringing the Wookiee down to his knees.

The furry alien soon fell forward onto his face, convulsing in pain. The Imperial kicked him in the gut, looking disgusted. "Get to work," he commanded the other Wookiee, who sadly did as he was told. The human then gestured for a pair of Stormtroopers to drag the Wookiee away; the slave would do no more good this day.

The Noghri watched this encounter with observant eyes. They could see the signs of fatigue in the Wookiees.

"We didn't realize the Empire was treating sentient beings this terribly," Plakhmil said quietly.

After a few seconds, Anakin replied sadly, "You saw what I—what Vader—wanted you to see." He took in a deep breath and then made a slight head gesture toward the Imperial officer. Obi-Wan and the Noghri followed him over to the man.

Spying the other man's insignia, Anakin greeted, "Lieutenant."

"Admiral Cosco," the man said in return with a salute. "I heard of your arrival. You are wanting to examine some of the Wookiees, I presume?"

"Yes. I wonder if I might briefly take a pair away from you and examine them up close?"

"Yes, of course, Admiral," the lieutenant said. "Would you like me to pick them out for you?"

"These two will do just fine," Anakin noted, pointing to the younger Wookiee who'd been in trouble and a taller Wookiee who was close to him.

"Creatures," the officer said loudly, getting the attention of the nearby slaves, "you and you, go with him." He pointed at the Wookiees Anakin had indicated, and they broke off from their tasks.

The two Force users and the Noghri led the Wookiees several yards away from the Imperials, though they still remained within eyesight. The Imperial lieutenant seemed particularly interested in what Anakin was doing, and Anakin didn't want to alert him to anything unusual, so he was willing to at least let the man have a visual of them.

After they arrived at the spot Anakin had picked out, the taller of the Wookiees said to the other in Shyriiwook, disgruntled, _What do they want us to do now? Lick their boots clean?_

What they didn't reckon on was that Anakin and Obi-Wan—unlike most of the Imperials they'd come across—could understand what they were saying. "We have no desire for you to lick our boots clean," Anakin said in a low voice, feeling the startlement of the Wookiees through the Force, "but we need you to listen carefully. As we talk, we will be looking you up and down as if estimating your capabilities. That is our cover, and I apologize for its demeaning nature."

The shorter Wookiee gave a small growl. [We're listening.]

"What are your names?" Obi-Wan asked kindly.

[I am Kalshkka,] the taller Wookiee noted. [This is Gertrynyar. You are not normal Imperials.]

"We're actually not Imperials at all," Anakin noted. He moved forward and, with an apologetic murmur, prodded at Kalshkka's chest with splayed fingers as if he were testing his physical form. "Well—I once was...But perhaps it is best not to get into that now." He frowned in thought.

"What we want to do," Obi-Wan noted smoothly, "is free the Wookiees."

Gertrynyar gave a quiet bark of laughter. [You are mad. Have you an army?]

Anakin shook his head. "We are not mad, and, no, we do not have an army. What we have is even better—we have the Force."

Gertrynyar said skeptically, [That is no help to us.]

[You forget, cub,] Kalshkka said, [that we were very much helped by a Jedi several years ago.]

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan said, expecting the small Force user to be the Jedi that was referred to.

Kalshkka nodded in affirmation. [Yes...I believe that you can help us. Do you have a plan?]

"Will it take long for messages to spread to the nearby Wookiees?" Anakin queried.

The older Wookiee shook his head. [It will not take long.]

"Very well, then," Anakin began, hoping that his plan—with the addition of suggestions from the Wookiees—would work.


	21. Striking

Mara held her completed lightsaber in the palm of her hand, staring down at it with bated breath. Never before—not even on one of her missions for the Emperor—had she felt this anxious.

This was the pivotal moment. The handle of the lightsaber felt as if it were melded to her hand, as if it were meant to be there—but she would soon discover whether it would ignite or she would have to (in her embarrassment) blast off planet and put all thoughts of being a Jedi far behind her.

She closed her eyes and lit the weapon.

The telltale hum of a lightsaber reached her ears, and she opened her eyes in relief. She exhaled and then smiled as she saw the weapon.

The blade was a gentle blue, and it looked just as a lightsaber was supposed to. She twisted her wrist around, letting the saber cut through the air and relishing in its comforting weight.

"It's pretty," a voice said from behind her, and she swiveled around, her saber at the ready.

The intruder was only Sun, however, and he looked at her warmly, the corners of his lips tugging upward. She smiled back at him, relaxing and feeling a bit silly. "Sorry," she mumbled. "And—thanks." She was quite proud of her saber, and it was nice to hear someone else admire it. She nodded toward the lightsaber handle held by her companion. "Is yours ready?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

She waited to hear more, but he didn't volunteer anything. Apparently, an upbringing as a desert nomad didn't entail automatically satisfying the curiosity of others. She prodded, "Can I see it?"

"Yeah," Sun replied. He looked down at his saber and thumbed the 'on' switch. A green blade protruded from the handle, adding another low hum to the still air. "It feels like..." he said slowly as he stared at his new weapon, "—like it's _mine_." He turned the lasersword off, and she did the same with hers.

Mara grinned at him. "Mine does, too—it feels, well, perfect, really." In actuality, 'perfect' felt like an understatement. "I guess we'll make pretty good Jedi after all," she told him.

He stepped toward her, his fingers tracing the contours of the unlit saber in his hands. "So, you want to be a Jedi now?"

The redhead nodded slowly. "I do. I feel...Well—there is something..." But she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say, and she simply trailed off.

"I know what you mean," the young man said softly.

"Do you, Sun?" she queried quietly, moving closer to him, searching his face for—for something...

He looked at her pensively for a moment before exhaling. "I think—I think I would like to be called Luke. Not Sun or Kid or Chinnatah—Luke. I wish—I wish to accept the Force—and—I think I would like to take on the name Luke as—" he paused, searching for the right phrase, before finally saying, "—as a sum of all my parts."

"Luke," she whispered, not even sure why she felt it was so significant that she repeat the name he had just taken on himself.

"When I rebuild the Order," he said softly, staring into her eyes, "I will not banish fear, yes, but I will also not banish love. How can I? Love is good—too good to be hidden away, as my parents did their love."

Mara found herself breathing his new name again. She trembled as she realized how close she was to him—how their faces were less than a foot apart—and she slowly lifted her hand to his chin. It was covered in rough bristles—he hadn't shaved in a day or two—but she felt as if an electric current passed through her when she touched him. There seemed to be something significant in the air between them, and she pulled his face down toward her, meeting only with a little confused resistance, and pressed her lips to his.

He was unresponsive at first—having been raised as a Tusken Raider, he'd had no experience with human intimacy—but with her lead he was soon kissing her back. Their eyes closed of their own accord, and they both found themselves taking away something great from this perfect moment.

His Force sense reached out and brushed hers, questing for something, and she opened herself up to him. For perhaps half a second, their minds united, their souls becoming one. Then Mara withdrew from the Force contact and pulled away from him, trembling.

She looked at him and saw him open his mouth to say something, then close it, then open it again—

"Come on," she said abruptly, turning and walking briskly away. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn't really talk to him right now. She couldn't believe what she'd just did. "Let's go show our new sabers to Yoda," she called over her shoulder, though even saying those few words seemed to weaken her.

She just barely heard him respond, "All right," before he began sloshing through the swamp to follow her.

But though she tried to clear her head, it was filled with questions. Did he _really_ know what had just happened? What was he thinking? What did it mean to him?

But most importantly—what did it mean to _her_?

* * *

The Triad—Leia Organa, Garm Bel Iblis, and Mon Mothma—were holding a private meeting on Yavin IV, discussing a battle for Coruscant. So as to maintain the element of surprise, only the higher ups of the Alliance hierarchy were included. They were all seated around a round table, and everyone's faces were grim.

Garm Bel Iblis seemed most concerned with the possibility of failure. "We face a severe lack of pilots, not to mention ground troops."

"But to present ourselves as a formidable force, our government needs a base of operations," Mon Mothma noted. "Coruscant is in a much better location than Yavin, and we cannot set up our government on a remote forest planet. No one would take the Republic seriously if we couldn't regain control of Coruscant."

"Mon's right, Garm," Leia sighed. She didn't like it any more than the Corellian did. "We aren't really given much choice in the matter. We need to gather the forces of our members—perhaps we could appear to plan an attack on one of the Imperial shipyards. We could gather our ships in a system near it and then have a massive hyperspace jump."

"Perhaps," Garm grumbled. He didn't like it, but he knew they had a point. As the head of the executive branch, it was his job to try to figure out how to make it happen. He just hoped the cost wasn't too high.

* * *

Anakin had given the Wookiees a few days to spread the word and prepare while he and Obi-Wan tried to busy themselves with "examining" Wookiees and performing other official-looking duties so as not to arouse suspicion. When the planned day finally arrived, Anakin bathed himself in the Light Side, thankful once again the ysalamir was on the ship. He would need every bit of his Force ability to try to pull this off. He'd been honest with the Wookiees—many of them would probably die, and the coup might not even work. But the noble beings were tired of the Imperials forcing them to do such tasks as making desks for Imperial officers. It was demeaning, and they deserved their freedom. They did not want their children to grow up as slaves.

Anakin pretended to survey the work of the Wookiees before him, nodding every now and then and muttering something about their movements. In reality, he was watching out of the corner of his eye for a cue. When he finally saw a Wookiee give him the awaited signal, he nodded to Obi-Wan. The two Force users and their Noghri escorts strode toward the Imperial garrison. Soon, they were brushing past the garrison leader's guards and into his office.

"Major General Arkent," Anakin said grimly. "There's a bit of a situation."

The garrison commander paled—clearly fearing the worst—and rushed out of his office and followed them.

He was not disappointed.

All over the seventh level of the Wookiee civilization, wild animals raged. Creatures such as the predatory Kashyyyk greyclimber—a bantha with a pair of bony head plates that it used as battering rams—were stampeding throughout the Wookiee city. Stormtroopers were being tossed and rammed off the sides by Wookiees and beasts which were unable to break through their armor, while several of the non-armored officers were being attacked head-on. Several Wookiees—who had certain ways of handling and even taming the dangerous creatures—had brought the beasts up on pulleys, as per Anakin's instructions, and it seemed as if more were appearing every minute. The Wookiees, accustomed to the attack patterns of the animals, were able to—at least, for the most part—stay out of their way. The Imperials, however, even though they possessed blasters and were able to take down several of their assailants, were not so lucky.

Fortunately for the Wookiees—and unfortunately for the Imperials—the tops of a lot of trees near the garrison had been removed. That meant Imperials were less likely to be saved by nearby branches and more likely to fall down toward the dangerous Shadowlands far below the seventh level. It was only rare that even the powerful Wookiees went even below the fifth level, so those individuals who fell were almost certainly doomed.

Anakin smiled on seeing the havoc his plan had wreaked, finding himself reminded briefly of the arena of beasts on Geonosis.

Arkent, on the other hand, cursed when he saw the chaos. Then he began shouting into his comlink.

Obi-Wan moved out of the way of a raging greyclimber, and he nodded at Anakin. Grabbing some blasters from a couple of downed Stormtroopers, the two Force users sent off a few intentionally bad shots toward the monsters and a few of the Wookiees, all the while using the Force to sweep Stormtroopers off the seventh level and down toward the Shadowlands. Until more Imperial forces had come in and things became even more of a mess, they were going to feign that they were on the side of the Imperials.

The Noghri were watchfully surrounding them. Plakhmil seemed to be twitching in his readiness to go into battle, though the other Noghri seemed relatively calm.

A growling feline—a blastail, if Anakin was fitting the proper name to the Wookiee description he'd been given—came rather close, bearing its teeth and holding claws up threateningly. Plakhmil was about to jump toward it and kill it when Anakin swept it away with the Force.

Seeming to suspect what had just happened, Plakhmil scowled at the Force user, an expression which was quite terrifying when found on a Noghri but which merely made Anakin laughed. He liked the reckless battle-hungry Noghri.

A few minutes later, however, he had his chance: Anakin was distracted by the appearance of some aerial transports carrying the awaited Imperial troops, and an Acklay-like Walluga came barreling toward him on its six powerful legs. Plakhmil pushed Anakin out of the way and leapt up onto the Walluga's back. The gray creature reared up, trying to dislodge its passenger, but a well-placed dagger from Plakhmil spilled its life-force, and it went tumbling to the ground.

As Plakhmil went back to Airakh's side, the older Noghri mewed, "Well done, young one."

Plakhmil gave him a fang-filled grin. "Thank you, Airakh clan Khim'bar."

"It's time!" Obi-Wan yelled over the noise of monster howls and blaster fire.

Anakin nodded. He and Obi-Wan lit their sabers—his blade Qui-Gon's green one and Obi-Wan's blade a newly created blue one—and stepped into the middle of the chaos.

It didn't take long for the Imperials to realize they had a new enemy, and they then had to split their firepower between monsters, Wookiees, Jedi, and Noghri. Major General Arkent, it seemed, had disappeared—probably having returned to the safety of the garrison.

After cutting several Imperials down, Anakin managed to make his way to Kalshkka, who was having fun ripping the arms off a screaming Imperial who'd been particularly cruel to him.

"Can your people take it from here?" Anakin asked the Wookiee. "My companions and I should probably go into the garrison—maybe we can negotiate a surrender, so there won't be more bloodshed."

The Wookiee nodded and tossed the Imperial over the side. [We can handle it,] he growled. [Go do what you must.]

Anakin caught Obi-Wan's eye, and they rushed toward the garrison building. Three of the Noghri appeared behind them.

"Where's Plakhmil?" Anakin asked one of Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts as they stood at the front of the Imperial construction.

They all turned to look at where the battle was raging. Near the middle of the activity, Plakhmil was being held in a headlock by one of Arkent's guards. Anakin had assumed the guards were mostly hired for sharpshooting skills—but if they could spend longer than a few seconds against a Noghri and survive, they must be highly trained in physical combat.

Another Walluga charged toward them, but Anakin managed to jump away from it. As his companions focused on taking it down, Anakin jogged toward Plakhmil and his attacker.

"Plakhmil!" he called. He held his lightsaber at the ready, willing the Force to speed his steps as he raced toward them.

Two daggers glistened in the black-suited human's legs, but he still held tightly onto his Noghri captive. The pain seemed to mean nothing to him. His face was blank as he concentrated on his Noghri target.

Using what was probably a Noghri-taught move, Plakhmil managed to twist out of the Imperial's grip. His dagger was raised and moving as he targeted the guard's heart, but suddenly there was a gun in the human's hand and he was blasting the Noghri in the chest at point-blank range.

"_Plakhmil_!" Anakin cried out. He blocked the guard's shots toward him and sent them back toward their owner, who crumpled to the ground.

"Plakhmil," the Force user whispered, falling to his knees at the Noghri's side. In barely restrained panic, he searched Plakhmil's face, desperately desiring for the Noghri's mouth to move and give him even _one_ last word, but the noble Plakhmil was still. Dead.

"Come, Anakin clan Skywalker," Airakh said quietly as Anakin clutched the Noghri's body to his chest. "We must go into the garrison to negotiate a surrender."

"No," Anakin whispered. He stood up with fire in his eyes and darkness in his heart. "Plakhmil deserves vengeance—there will be blood here tonight," he growled, and he called the Dark Side to himself.


	22. Caving

He fought in a haze, his actions a blur. Imperial after Imperial fell under his blade, much like what had happened all those years ago with Jedi at the Temple. The Dark Side swarmed around him and buzzed in his head, darkly content to have possession of him once again. One of the rampaging creatures came toward him, and he sliced off its head. Its body slumped to the ground, and he turned to his next victim.

The Force swelled up around him, heightening his senses, feeding off the destruction of those around him. Imperial forces were decimated before him, and his heart was gripped in bloodthirsty vengeance.

But slowly, he came to realize there was someone yelling at him, that his name—his old name—the name his mother had given him—was being yelled at him in concern, in worry, in desperation.

The fog began to part, and the Dark Side seeped away from his veins, loosened its grip on his heart. He realized, finally, that Obi-Wan had come forth to lock blades with him, and he stopped moving.

"Anakin! Don't let the Dark Side consume you again."

He furrowed his brow, letting the sound of the voice sink in before speaking. "Plakhmil—"

"—would not want his death to undo everything we've worked for. Reach for the Light, Anakin."

Anakin stared at the Jedi Master, considering his words, considering the request. The Dark Side prowled around him, looking for a chance to strike, but he exhaled and took hold of a few tendrils of the Light Side, bringing the Force to himself. The Light brought with it purification, erasing some of the blackness of his heart once again.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he whispered, ashamed of himself. Would there ever be a time when he didn't crumble to the Dark Side's machinations?

But Obi-Wan didn't reply, for a greyclimber came charging toward them, and he had to distract it and direct it toward a group of Imperials. After succeeding in doing so, he went back to Anakin's side. The younger man's feet hadn't moved an inch, though he had halfheartedly directed a few blaster bolts back to their owner.

"We need to go inside the base, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly.

Anakin nodded in recognition of the words, but then his eyes moved to Plakhmil's body. A blastail was crouched over the dead Noghri, inhaling the scent of fresh death.

"No," Anakin gritted, clenching his fists, "I will not let you have him." Though he was careful not to let the Dark Side grip him once again, the fear he felt was dangerously close to calling it back.

While Obi-Wan was distracted by the blaster bolts fired by an Imperial, Anakin fought his way over to Plakhmil. In a second, the blastail was dead, and Anakin bent down and threw the Noghri's small body over his shoulder, holding his lightsaber in his right hand and using his left to maintain his grip on his new burden.

The nearby Airakh saw him, however, and quickly reached his side.

"Anakin clan Skywalker," the Noghri said darkly, "leave him. Airakh clan Khim'bar died honorably, and there is much at stake in this battle."

"No," Anakin replied with resolute firmness. He had managed to immerse himself in the Light Side, and while it gave him clarity, it did not change his mind. "He deserves a proper burial. I'm taking him to our ship."

"The garrison—"

"Tell Obi-Wan to begin the assault on the garrison without me. I will join you soon enough."

The Noghri stared at him for a few seconds—almost as if seeing him for the first time—before nodding in reluctant acquiescence. "Very well."

* * *

"Thief. Scoundrel. Villain. Pirate."

Han stopped in the middle of the Massassi corridor and turned around to find Lando staring at him with a wide grin on his face. Han raised an eyebrow. "You talkin' about yourself there, General?"

Lando just shook his head, still caught up in his mock disbelief. "Why is it that _you_, of all people, have been able to finagle an engagement to the loveliest woman at this base?"

"Loveliest woman in the galaxy, I think you meant," Han corrected. He crossed his arms smugly and smirked.

"That, too." Lando moved toward him, his cape swishing behind him. "C'mere, you!" He pulled his friend into a hug. "Congratulations, you braggart."

"Come on, Lando, take it easy," Han said, trying to extract himself from the other man's embrace. "I get enough rib-crushing hugs from Chewie. No need to add yours to the list."

Lando pulled back, but he slapped his friend on the shoulder a little harder than he had to. "So, when's the big day, you rogue? And am I invited?"

"Not if you keep calling me names."

"Fine, fine. So, _Han_—when's the big day?"

Han's mood darkened as he allowed himself to consider the question, and he shrugged. "All the Imperial attacks lately have kept the precious Rebel Triad busy. I doubt I could get her Worshipfulness away long enough for _half_ a wedding these days. And she's probably gonna want some High Alderaanian ceremony."

"Guess we just have to try to bring down the Empire faster," Lando commented, studying his friend's face. He and Han moved to the side as a group of people came down the hallway.

When they were out of earshot, Lando said quietly, "I hear there are rumors of an attack on a big Imperial site. That's probably what's keeping the princess so busy."

"So, the Battle for Coruscant is becoming fact, huh?" Han muttered.

Lando didn't respond. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected that Coruscant was the intended target—still, thinking about the upcoming battle was sobering.

"You're right, though," Han said thoughtfully.

"About what?" the Alliance general asked, confused.

"We need to try to bring down the Empire faster."

Lando shrugged. "Well, I expect I wasn't made a general for nothing. The defining battle's going to be soon, and it won't be long before I'll be shipped out."

"But not alone," Han remarked. He then nodded at his friend and walked away, leaving Lando staring after him and wondering what exactly he had meant.

* * *

After the two newly-made lightsabers were examined by an approving Yoda, the spirit of Qui-Gon appeared.

Mara stared at the ghost, slack-jawed.

Luke had seen the spirit several times before. The first had been when he had gone with the _Falcon_ to Dagobah to retrieve Leia. When Yoda had begun to train Luke, Qui-Gon had started to make semi-frequent appearances—but always when he was out of Mara's presence. Luke had eventually realized that Qui-Gon wasn't showing himself to Mara, and he wondered at the significance of the spirit's having now chosen to do so.

The spirit peered down at their weapons, examining the precious fruits of their labor. Yoda was turning over Luke's saber in his hands, and a proud smile spread across Qui-Gon's face.

"You've done very well," the spirit complimented after Yoda had handed Luke's saber back to its owner and taken Mara's to examine. "Great appearance and construction. I'm not sure Master Yoda could do much better."

"Humph," Yoda said grumpily, though he really was pleased as well.

"Who are you?" Mara asked the spirit at last, having finally convinced herself that she wasn't just hallucinating.

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn. I was once a Jedi Master...I instructed Obi-Wan."

"Are you..." But Mara couldn't finish her sentence.

"Dead?" Qui-Gon smiled. "Well, yes, I am, in a manner of speaking. I am part of the Living Force now."

"How are you...appearing to us?"

"It's a Force technique," Qui-Gon answered. "If Yoda does not teach it to you, I imagine Obi-Wan will some day. But—enough about that. You should practice with your sabers now. You need to learn to wield your lightsaber as an extension of yourself."

"Yes," agreed Yoda. "Very important, the weapon of a Jedi is."

Mara stared down at the saber handle in her hand, trying to ignore the eerie presence of the ghost. Though she knew she and Luke would never consciously hurt each other, practicing with such weapons seemed dangerous—and in her distracted state, she wasn't sure she would have complete control of all her faculties. Exhaling in an attempt to let go of her misgivings, she lit her saber and lifted it. She wanted to look at Luke, yet she avoided his eyes. She wasn't sure what she would see in them—she wasn't sure if he understood the significance of what had passed between them earlier, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know whether he had or not.

Despite the coolness of the metal, the lightsaber felt warm in her hands. It was as if the Force were binding her hand to the weapon with small tendrils, creating a cocoon of awareness. The lightsaber was of the perfect symmetry, the perfect balance. The Force had indeed guided her in its construction. Of that, she had not the slightest doubt.

Luke gently pressed the green blade of his saber against her blue blade, and the sudden noise they made on contact startled her into looking into his face. His blue eyes were kind and inviting, and she thought she could see some concern in them as well.

She wanted to say something to him, but instead she broke her gaze away from him, gritted her teeth, pulled her saber away, and struck.

They smoothly moved into the dance of a lightsaber duel, sharing strikes and slashes, feinting and parrying. Under Yoda's tutelage, they both wrapped the Force around them, and it felt as if there were a sort of electricity in the air as their sabers hummed and sparked.

Despite their intense concentration, Mara felt as if Luke's eyes were constantly on her face, and it made her frustrated. With a furrowed brow, she began an assault that pushed him backwards.

"Beware your anger," Yoda warned, fully aware of what she was doing.

With great effort, Mara reined in her emotions, but she continued on the offense, trying to distract Luke from thinking and encourage him to just _act_.

She pressed him against a tree, but he twisted her blade to the side and began to force her to retreat. She nearly tripped over a root and cursed, and then she ducked a sideways slash which made her lose her balance and fall backward onto the ground. The mischievous look on his face brought a smirk to her mouth, and she whipped her leg out and brought her unsuspecting opponent down to the muck that was currently soiling her clothes and soaking her to the bone.

The breath was knocked out of him, which gave her a few seconds to jump to her feet, and when she pointed her lightsaber down at him, he batted it aside. "You can't beat me that easily, Mara," he said in a voice that sounded mirthful. He rolled to the side and then stood up, holding his saber at the ready.

Mara rolled her eyes and almost missed the stone that he sent flying toward her head. Just in time, she brought up her lightsaber and cut the stone in two. One of the pieces hit her in the forehead, and she exclaimed while reaching up to touch her skin, "Kriff, Luke!"

He beamed at her, proud of himself. "Sorry, Mara," he said insincerely.

There didn't seem to be any break in the skin, but so help her, if she had a giant bruise on her head the next day...

She scowled, pulling her thoughts away from such distractions and delving deeper into the Force.

The Force surrounded her in a bubble. It enabled her to respond to Luke's moves a split second before they occurred. But then, something strange happened. The Force bubble seemed to be extending outwards, overlapping with Luke's own Force-shroud. And then they seemed to reach some sort of unity—it was as if their moves were mapped out in each other's brain—as if their two minds were melding together and sharing power, knowledge, and perception. The Force sung around Mara in a way it never had before, and she felt as if everything were imbued with a remarkable clarity. Her heart, with all the terrible and shameful things it held in it, was laid bare to her opponent; and his heart was similarly open to her.

She allowed herself to briefly rejoice in the experience, allowing the heady sensations to wash over her, but then—knowing, no, feeling—no, _fearing_ the danger, she cut herself off from Luke. She felt as if she were suddenly blind, but she tried to convince herself it was for the best—that they needed to go back to normal. But nothing would ever be the same again, and "normal" now had a new meaning.

They continued to duel, but they were only going through the motions. Luke tried a few times to reach out with his Force sense toward Mara, but she merely built her mental walls up higher. She was horrified that she had shown so much of herself to him.

Their lightsaber practice didn't continue for much longer, for Yoda could sense their hearts were no longer in it. If he had noticed what passed between them, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he simply told them to stop.

"You have both grown stronger in the Force," Qui-Gon commented.

"Yes," Yoda agreed. "Now, take you somewhere, I will."

"To the cave?" Luke queried. He hadn't completely moved away from the habit of exploration which he had developed in his younger days of living as a Tusken Raider. He'd had a particular fascination with caves back then, but this one had especially intrigued him. He hadn't entered it, though, suspecting that the dark aura emanating from it meant that he wouldn't like what he would find in there.

Yoda inclined his head in affirmation. "Time for you both to face the cave, it is."

They walked to the cave in silence. Luke turned several times to look at Mara, but she continued to avoid his gaze. His feet began to feel heavy, and he felt as if his whole body were weighed down with sadness. Suddenly, a few holovids he'd watched came back to him, and he thought he finally understood what had been meant by the term "lovesick."

They finally reached the cave. The gnarled roots of the tree in which it was nestled were sprawled all over, as if the great plant were desperately attempting to find some way to tie itself to an unyielding ground. The evil side of the Force bathed the region in darkness, the ominous energies of the Dark Side swelling outward to both repel and attract nearby organisms.

Mara stared at it, the color draining out of her face. "What are we doing here, Master Yoda?" she asked in a whisper.

Yoda sat down on a fallen tree, and the spirit of Qui-Gon sat down next to him. "In there," Yoda told her, "you must go."

"What will we find in there?" Luke inquired soberly.

"Just that which you take with you," Qui-Gon answered.

Luke looked at him pensively for a few seconds before querying, "Does that mean we should leave our weapons behind?"

Qui-Gon's only response was a slight quirk of his mouth, but it was enough for Luke, who handed his lightsaber to Yoda. The small Jedi Master took the weapon wordlessly but pressed a small glowrod into his hand.

Mara turned to regard the cave and then shook her head decisively. She grasped at the lightsaber at her side, moved toward the gaping hole in the tree, hesitated, and then trudged forward with her lightsaber lit.

Luke turned on the glowrod Yoda had given him and followed her.

The inside of the cavern was no more appealing than the outside. A thick fog rolled through it, dampness leaked from every wall, and creatures lurked in every crevice. Despite the light sources they both held, the darkness was thick and felt almost impenetrable.

"Mara," Luke started tentatively. He wanted to talk to her about what had happened earlier.

"Later," she said curtly, apparently sensing his intentions. She picked up her pace and disappeared around a corner.

Making a somewhat vulgar Tusken gesture of frustration which he had never actually made before, Luke steeled himself and began moving forward. He promptly tripped over a rock and fell on his face.

He stayed there for a few seconds, contemplating how miserable it felt to get himself wet once again—which had never been a problem on Tatooine—before the sight of a reptilian creature made him quickly rise to his feet. He wiped off his chest, tried to calm his beating heart, and then started walking forward again.

Mara wasn't in sight. Thinking she'd just turned a corner, Luke began moving faster. The passage curved around and then opened into a large chamber. Mara was still not visible, but the room was also not empty.

Before him, Vrentlla stood staring at him with wide, sad eyes. It wasn't mature-Vrentlla but cub-Vrentlla, yet somehow he knew it was her. He would know those eyes of hers anywhere.

He took several steps toward her, reaching out with a shaky hand. He had almost touched her when a black-cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows. Vrentlla let out a pathetic bleat, an oddity for the normally quiet creature. She lowered her head, and the figure reached her side.

"Leave her alone," Luke growled in Basic.

But the humanoid reached out to touch the bantha's long hair. As his fingers trailed along Vrentlla's body, her hair turned black.

Luke snarled his warning again, but this time he did so in the Tusken language.

The black hood of the being's cloak turned to him and then moved back to face the bantha.

Luke rushed forward, knocking him to the ground. The hooded figure quickly rolled away from him, and Luke reached out with the Force to grasp a nearby rock. He threw the rock at the figure, who diverted it from its course with a wave of his hand. The being clenched his fist up by his head. Vrentlla was swiftly lifted into the air, and she cried out, choking and struggling.

"No!" Luke cried out, running to the side of his childhood companion. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to bring the Force to himself to release the other's Force-grip on her, but his head was filled with a murky haze. The Dark Side offered seductive tendrils to him, asking him to take advantage of its power, to use it to save his friend, but he thrust the darkness aside from himself and backed away from the bantha.

"She's dead," he whispered to himself. He would not risk his soul for this apparition of his friend. This was all an illusion. Vrentlla was gone.

But knowing that it was an illusion did not ease the pain in his heart as he watched the bantha flail about in the air; it did not help when her cries finally died out and when her body went limp; and it did not help when she was dropped to the ground.

"Who are you?" Luke whispered to the other. But he suspected he already knew.

The figure reached forward to grab his hood and pulled it back.

The young man nodded and sighed. "That's what I thought."


	23. Breaking

**Previously:**** Anakin, after briefly touching the Dark Side, retrieves Plakhmil's body while the Noghri and Obi-Wan enter the Kashyyyk garrison. Back at the Rebel base, Han tells Lando he and Leia probably won't marry for a while (due to rising Imperial attacks and the fact that a Battle for Coruscant is in the works), and he claims Lando won't be alone when he gets shipped out for the battle. On Dagobah, Luke and Mara duel and briefly experience a strong Force connection to each other before Mara cuts it off; then they go to the cave, where Luke sees a Force vision of his dead bantha companion and a dark figure who starts killing her; Luke resists the Dark Side's call, and after Vrentlla goes limp, the figure removes his hood.**

* * *

"Winter, sometimes I think I hate Fey'lya more than I ever hated the Emperor."

Winter shook her head in amusement. Though Leia was using her fair share of hyperbolic leeway in speaking of the ever-plotting Bothan, Winter found herself inclined to agree with the princess's sentiments. However, true to form, she still tried to act as the voice of reason.

"Fey'lya doesn't kill those who displease him, Your Highness," Winter pointed out. "That's one point in his favor."

"The _only_ point," Leia muttered, tapping a datacard against her desk in irritation. "Personally, I don't think Bothawui is worth the trouble of dealing with him."

"You must admit, Your Highness, that Bothan information gathering skills are excellent."

"So, they're spies. That's just what we want in an ally." The princess's sarcasm was almost tangible.

"If it weren't for their spy network, we wouldn't know that it was a Grand Admiral behind all these Imperial attacks."

"It would be even better if they could tell us _who_ the Grand Admiral was," the Alliance leader said, still feeling grumpy. But the point had to be conceded to Winter, and Leia heaved a dramatic sigh. "We may owe them _something_," she admitted, "but I don't think we owe them the power Fey'lya thinks he deserves."

"At least the Bothans are on our side," the other woman pointed out. "Imagine how powerful they would be as an enemy."

"Sometimes I think Fey'lya _is_ my enemy. You say he doesn't kill those who displease him, but I keep catching myself peeking around corners, wondering if a hired gun will be waiting there, ready to blow me to smithereens."

Winter's lips curved upward. "Surely the situation is not that bad, Your Highness."

"_Well_," Leia said, waving her hand, not wanting to make more concessions, but knowing that the representative of Bothawui was still a far cry from attempting to stoop to such measures—for the time being, at least. Finally, she told Winter, "Just keep an eye on him. I don't trust him any further than I can throw him. And since I can't even pick him up..."

Winter chuckled and shook her head.

At that moment, the door to Leia's office opened with a light hiss, and Han Solo stepped inside. He seemed pensive, and Winter, knowing he would want to speak to Leia in private, got to her feet and took her leave of the newly engaged couple.

When Han entered, Leia felt some of her annoyance about Fey'lya's plotting fade away. Strange as it may have been for a pirate and a princess to speak lovers' vows, she truly cared for the Corellian.

"Han," she greeted with a smile as she stood up. The smile faltered as she caught something of his emotions from him in the Force—he was exuding a mixture of determination, obstinacy, and inevitability...And _that_ could not bode well.

"Hey, princess," he returned with a grin that was too broad.

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"

The man looked wounded. "What—can't a guy come and visit his gorgeous fiancée?"

"I have a few more hours of work left," she told him as she crossed her arms, "and I'm not leaving early, if that's what you're wanting."

"I wouldn't dream of trying to take you away from your precious workload, Leia," he declared, apparently neglecting to remember that he had committed such a travesty several times before.

"Then what is it?"

"Sometimes, you're no fun," he muttered. Finally, he held his hands up with a sigh. "Look, I was just hoping that maybe you could help me get my hands on an Alliance commission—a step higher than Lando would be nice—and let me join in the Coruscant battle."

Leia's breath caught in her chest, and her eyes fell to stare down blankly at her desk. She knew that she and Han both led dangerous lives—they were, after all, traitors to the galactic government—but the Battle for Coruscant was one in which most of those beings involved would be martyring themselves. As rumors of the battle spread, people had even begun referring to it as the "Martyr's Barter," making reference to the exchange of life for liberty. As she was a member of the Alliance Triad—and wasn't part of the executive branch, like Garm Bel Iblis—she wouldn't be participating in the thick of the battle...And she had hoped—had expected, really, if she were truthful with herself—that Han would remain with her, acting as that pillar of strength which she so desperately needed during such trying times. If something happened to him at the battle...

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and she saw in them sadness, understanding, determination, and love.

She wanted to argue with him, to tell him that logically he wasn't needed, that they had enough leaders and ships—but it wasn't true. Their lives were filled with peril as it was, and it might always be that way—she couldn't stop him from piloting his ship in dangerous situations any more than she could stop herself from rebelling against the tyranny of an empire. They were who they were. There was no changing that.

Finally, she asked him, "Are you doing this for the Rebellion or for me?"

He gave her his lopsided smile. "Does it matter?"

Her eyes started to get a little watery, and he stepped around her desk to pull her to his chest.

"I love you, Leia," he told her softly, "and I always will."

"I love you, too, Han," she whispered. _Stars_, how she loved him.

* * *

Anakin gently placed Plakhmil clan Baikh'vair's body down inside the shuttle. He knelt on the ground and traced the edges of the hole in the Noghri's chest with gentle fingers, his fingers brushing across the rough fabric.

He thought back to Palpatine's promises of control over life and death...To have been able to bring a life back from that dark and eternal abyss—

But no. That was unnatural. Even if there were once a Sith Lord who'd had such a power in his grasp, it should never have been used. Not then, and not now. Not even to save his Padmé.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, steadying himself. Clenching his fists at his side, he stood up. He felt he should do more for Plakhmil. But there was no time for it—not if he wanted to provide any aid in the fight for Kashyyyk...The Noghri had chosen to help with this mission, and he needed to make sure that they would not be regretting Plakhmil's death.

Artoo, who had miraculously stayed inside of the ship instead of going outside and getting into trouble, whistled something consoling, and Anakin patted the droid's dome gratefully. Artoo's comforting presence did make him feel a little better.

On impulse, Anakin grabbed a survival blanket from one of the shuttle's compartments and placed it over the body which lay prone on the floor. Then he lit his lightsaber and dashed out of the shuttle, his feet pounding against the ramp.

Once he was outside the ysalamiri's Force-less radius, he executed a nearly-flawless flip and ended up behind a Stormtrooper, whom he immediately decapitated. He was then assaulted by a seemingly never-ending barrage of blaster bolts, but he reflected the blasts back to their owners with grim determination.

A whistling noise sped by him, and he turned to see a certain blue and white astrodroid barreling toward the garrison.

"Artoo!" he cried out in disbelief.

But the droid just ignored him and entered the building, narrowly missing several fly-by laser bolts.

Shaking his head, Anakin growled a few curses under his breath. Then he began to fight his way toward the garrison.

He ran into the building and started to dash down the halls, his saber streaking through the air with a brilliant flash of color. Soon, he found his companions engaged in a bright and noisy firefight. Obi-Wan was in the middle of the corridor, blocking blaster bolts with his lightsaber, but the Noghri and several Wookiees—and that blasted reckless astromech—were using some pillars to provide cover. Anakin noted with a frown that one of Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts was clutching his side with his free hand, having been hit by a blasterbolt. The wound didn't seem to be a major one, however, so Anakin took his attention away from it.

As he moved up beside Obi-Wan, he felt something like déjà vu come over him. With a grin, he said, "Just like old times, hmm, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, though he was smiling. "We're older than we used to be, Anakin."

"They couldn't stop us then, and they won't stop us now," Anakin proclaimed, abruptly dashing forward and startling several Imperials who attempted to simultaneously shoot at him and find better cover. Artoo immediately began to follow him.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called after him. But he was exasperated, not upset, and he soon rushed down the corridor to catch up with his former Padawan.

The Wookiees sounded a call behind them and, with the Noghri, ran after them.

Anakin took down several opponents who crumpled noiselessly to the ground, watching with a crook of a smile as the other nearby Imperials were felled by Wookiee bowcasters. He was glad some of the furry beings had decided to take part in the garrison assault. They certainly could pack a punch in a fight—and not _just _with their fists.

"Come on," he instructed his allies with a go-forward-with-me wave over his shoulder.

He led them straight to the locked garrison commander's office. Arkent's guards fired at the oncoming party from their position by the office door, and a couple of blasts from Wookiee bowcasters took them out.

The door was thick, but Anakin stabbed his green lightsaber into it, slowly dragging it downward. As he did so, Artoo pulled up to the door panel and hooked up to it, beeping to himself. Anakin tried to double his efforts, wanting to be victorious over the droid, but Artoo soon let out a triumphant whistle, and so Anakin withdrew his saber with a scowl. "You didn't have to beat me, Artoo," he told the droid as he shook his head.

Artoo just bleeped something back in amusement as Anakin stepped into the office with Obi-Wan at his heels.

Major General Arkent was looking at them in trepidation, his blaster held upright in his very shaky right hand. His left hand held a comlink which he lowered to his desk in resignation. "I can't—I can't believe I was fooled like that...What—what do you...you Jedi want?"

"We want your surrender," Anakin told him. He held Qui-Gon's saber stiffly upright, watching with satisfaction as the Imperial stared at it in fear. Visibility was key. If there was anything he had learned during his time as Darth Vader, it was that.

"There are still more Imperial forces that haven't arrived yet," Arkent noted, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "They will raze the planet's surface with their lasers. They don't need to directly face those monsters and those—those blasted Wookiees. The Empire would sooner destroy Kashyyyk than allow such disobedience."

"That may be so," Obi-Wan acknowledged calmly, "but your forces will not be able to withstand a planet-wide coup. Wookiees are much cleverer than the Empire gives them credit for. They've not only managed to break into Imperial storehouses to retrieve the bowcasters which were stolen from them, but they've also hijacked some Imperial ships. Your men won't know friend from foe—and by the time they realize they're being fired upon, their ships will already be disabled."

A satisfied Wookiee growl sounded from behind them, and panic flashed through the garrison commander's eyes. He started to quickly lift his comlink to his mouth, only to cry out in pain as the object exploded in his hands.

Anakin turned around to the sight of Airakh holding up a blaster.

"I am sorry I fired on him, Anakin clan Skywalker," the Noghri said, not looking sorry at all, "but it was necessary."

Arkent was clutching what remained of his left hand to his chest and sobbing, "Please don't—don't kill me. Don't kill me..." He had dropped his blaster onto his desk, where it remained, forgotten.

Anakin finally allowed himself to truly _look_ at the man. Though Arkent's uniform was finely pressed and his hair carefully trimmed, he lacked many of the signs of age which were normally present in Imperials of his position. He was young, Anakin realized—probably not even twenty yet. He must have been one of those Imperial children who had been given a high position on account of his father's Imperial connections. But he wasn't a man who was meant for the military. That much was obvious.

Softening, Anakin said gently, "We won't kill you. We just request that you surrender the planet to the Wookiees. We will allow all Imperials who do not wish to defect to the Rebellion to leave the planet in ships with weapon systems that have been permanently disabled. But we require surrender—or else there will be more unnecessary bloodshed."

The major general wiped his watery eyes with his right hand. "I'll surrender the base."

It worked just as Anakin had said. With the exception of defectors who chose to join the Rebellion against the Empire—all of them men who had been disgusted with the abominable treatment of the Wookiees—the Imperials on Kashyyyk left the planet on a few crowded ships. The Wookiees wished to retain as many Imperial vessels as they could, just in case they found they needed to defend themselves against another Imperial attempt at conquest. Obi-Wan had even talked briefly to Arkent in an attempt to convince him to join with the Alliance—but Arkent had sworn a complete rejection of all things military and had said he wanted to just return to his home planet to live in peace. All of the wounded had been tended to, and now it was just a matter of watching as the last of the Imperial ships faded into the distance.

Anakin smiled at the sight of a group of Wookiees raising their fists in the air triumphantly at the departure of the Imperials. It was a view that filled his heart with warmth, and he turned to say something to Obi-Wan.

"We—"

But he wasn't able to finish his statement. He fell to his knees and clutched his head as a Force vision stormed through his brain.

_Laser bolts flashed through space above a giant city-planet. A battle was underway._

_Conflagrations were spreading on capital ships, and ripples in the Force were indicating the rising death toll. How could the struggling Rebellion defeat such a fleet as that which was possessed by its enemy? The Empire _was_ military power—the defection of the Emperor's right hand man had made barely a dent in its strength. After all, the Emperor had collected military minds as some wealthy beings collected precious stones. How could one defeat the sheer military might of the Empire?_

_But though the space battle was grim, the biggest source of darkness was present _on_ Coruscant. There, a black hole in the Force called to him. He stared down at the planet's surface from his ship. To save the galaxy, he knew he must go to that hole. He must face that from which he wished he were free. He must allow himself to be swallowed—but he _had_ to ensure that he could return. He would be _with_ darkness, but he couldn't allow himself to _be_ darkness once again. He knew he could not be brought back to the Light if he fell one more time._

_The scene changed, and he saw Wookiees and Noghri and some humans surrounding Imperials. The Wookiees roared in indignation—_

—_and then the scene abruptly changed once more. Two blue lightsabers were glowing in a pit of darkness. Somehow, he knew they were the blades that had been taken from him and Obi-Wan. The Dark Side surrounded the sabers, radiating from their holder. Chilling blue eyes—all that he could see of the one who bore the Jedi weapons—stared at him, taunting him, beckoning him. The darkness called him. Anger tried to reach for him—_

Anakin wrenched his mind away from the Force vision, gasping out and thrusting his arms against the ground in a useless attempt to fight an invisible enemy.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly, kneeling beside him. "Are you all right?"

The other Jedi nodded, though in reality he wasn't quite sure whether he was "all right" or not. He licked his lips, which had somehow become very dry. "It was a Force vision," he finally explained, trying to calm his heart, which was beating an uncomfortably fast cadence against his chest. "I need to go to Coruscant."

"What did you see?" Obi-Wan asked, helping him to his feet.

"I saw a battle for Coruscant," Anakin muttered thoughtfully. "I need—I need to go help." Seeking more absolution for his wrongs would have to wait.

"When does this battle take place?"

Anakin thought back to his Force vision. He frowned and then answered, "I don't think it happens for a while..."

"Then we have some time. If a battle for Coruscant is to happen, don't you think we have an important stop to make first?" Obi-Wan nodded toward the Noghri, who were conversing with some Wookiees, aided by a small portable Imperial translator.

"You're right," admitted Anakin.

The pair of Force users moved over toward the Noghri and the group of Wookiees. On seeing their approach, Kalshkka turned to speak to them. [We are indebted to you for your help.]

Anakin, who knew something of Wookiee life debts, shook his head. "We are merely trying to help a planet that has been greatly wronged."

"My companion is right," Obi-Wan said, placing a hand on the younger Jedi's shoulder. "We are simply seeing that justice is done. Our only request is that Kashyyyk consider joining the Alliance."

Kalshkka gave a toothy grin. [I am certain your request will be honored. We hold no love for the Empire.]

"There is an impending battle, and I am afraid we must leave," Obi-Wan told the Wookiee, "but we can give you the coordinates to Alliance Headquarters, should you decide to send some planetary representatives to join the Alliance."

[A battle?] one of the Wookiees in the group asked curiously.

Anakin, remembering that Wookiees had been in his Force vision, explained, "The Alliance will soon make an attempt to take control of Coruscant. Once that happens, a Republic will finally start to become a reality."

The Wookiees looked at each other, and finally one of them spoke: [We must hold a council, but I expect that we would be glad to aid the Alliance in such a battle.]

"It will be a very dangerous undertaking," Obi-Wan warned.

[The Empire must be destroyed,] Kalshkka said. [We will not hesitate at martyring ourselves for such a noble cause.]

His eyes gleaming, Gertrynyar told them, [We shall gladly spill Imperial blood.]

[Cub,] Kalshkka admonished, [the goal is justice, not bloodshed.]

Anakin gave the Wookiees a bow. "We must leave Kashyyyk, but let us first give you the coordinates to the base."

Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't say much more than a few words to the Noghri until they got back on their shuttle. But when the younger human began plotting the hyperspace coordinates for Honoghr, he told the Noghri, "Thank you for your aid."

"It was freely given," one of Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts replied. "The Wookiees are a noble race."

"I am sorry about Plakhmil," he said, his voice a near-whisper. "I did not want—"

"He died in battle," Airakh interrupted. "He would not regret that his death was spent in such a noble cause, and neither should you."

Obi-Wan gave his friend a sad smile. "He's right, Anakin."

"And though your actions were foolish, considering the circumstances," Airakh added, "we thank you for ensuring the safety of his body."

"I couldn't bear—well..." Anakin couldn't even bear to finish the sentence. He was quiet for a few moments, and then he instructed everyone to strap in for the hyperspace jump.

But though he was silent for most of the journey, his thoughts were tumultuous. The Noghri's death had troubled him, but the image of the inevitable confrontation on Coruscant was now foremost in his mind. Was it all to end where it had begun?

* * *

Luke had begun to walk away from that troublesome dark figure and his dead bantha companion slowly, but then his steps had begun to pick up their pace, and by the time he finally exited the Dark Side cave he was in a full-out run. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there.

He was so caught up in his own chaotic thoughts that he didn't notice the dazed Mara's presence until it was too late to stop, and he rammed into her back, knocking her—and himself—to the ground.

She caught herself on her hands and knees before her face ploughed into the swamp, but he was more fortunate, as he simply sat down backwards. His rump, however, would be aching from his clumsiness later.

"Shavit," Mara muttered to herself. "Watch where you're going."

"I'm sorry," Luke said, speaking with true contrition. "I just—"

"Yeah, well, just watch it." The young woman got to her feet, rubbing her muck-covered hands on her jumpsuit. "What are you in such a rush for, anyway?"

"I—I saw something in that cave."

"Probably just a lizard," Mara said dismissively.

"No," he asserted as he stood up. But he could tell she didn't want to talk about either his experience or hers, so he didn't continue the subject of the cave...But what was it that _she_ had seen there?

"We should probably go back to Master Yoda now." After wiping her hands on her clothes one last time, she turned and began to walk away.

"Wait a minute, Mara," he called after her, causing her to pause and give him an expectant glance.

"Yeah?" She put her left hand on her hip, not bothering to hide her extreme annoyance.

"What was that—that _thing _between us?"

Mara colored and looked away from him. "What are you talking about?"

"When we were dueling, we..." Luke frowned, trying to think of the proper description. "There was a connection between us."

His words shook her to the core. There had indeed been a connection between them—and it had frightened her beyond belief.

She wasn't _meant_ to have a connection with anybody. She was Mara Jade, loner. She had never had a family, had never known that societal assimilation which only happened to people whom members of society _cared_ about. All she had had was the Emperor. He had been her whole life.

And so, fearful, she simply shrugged in response to his question and tried to downplay its significance. "I'm sure it's just a Force user thing."

He stared at her with those intense blue eyes of his. "Why did you cut it off?"

Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't tell him what the real reason was. She couldn't tell him that she was terrified of being hurt—that she was terrified of hurting him. She had been taught to destroy, and his sharing a Force bond with her could only end in grief.

She felt like a coward, but she merely returned with heavy scorn, "What does it matter?" And then she began to walk away.

But his next words stopped her footsteps instantly. "It matters because—because I love you."

Her back was to him, so he missed the tears that sprang to her eyes and the pained look that crossed her face. All that he got from her was her cold reply: "Neither one of us knows what love is."

But he wasn't to be dismissed so easily, and he spoke with growing eagerness. "That's not true, Mara. I _know_ what love is. It's—looking at someone else's life as if it is your own, as if there is a connection between the two of you which can never be severed. It's—feeling pain when they feel pain—feeling joy when they feel joy. It's living in their every heartbeat—and dying with their final breath."

The words washed over her, filling her with a multitude of emotions. But she wouldn't let herself express those feelings, and she simply shook her head resolutely, telling him in a flat voice, "I don't have a heart."

But as she began to take her leave of him once again, he darted forward and grabbed her shoulder, trying to spin her around. She flung his hand off her and refused to look at him, determined not let him hear or see the painful sob that was caught in her chest.

"Mara," he pleaded, his voice wracked with pain and hope, "I want to marry you. I want to be your mate for life."

But with a coldness that she hadn't known she possessed, she continued to move away from him, sparing him neither parting glance nor parting word.

Yet as she did so, she came to the dawning realization that she did indeed have a heart. She could tell because it was breaking.

* * *

Luke wasn't certain how long he stood there watching the spot where Mara had disappeared, but he finally forced his feet to take him forward when he heard Gafsa give a mournful cry. He made a small motion of greeting toward the jubba bird before continuing on his way. He needed to return to Master Yoda, who he was sure had a lesson for him.

But the situation inside the cave seemed suddenly frivolous—what was the pain caused by a vision to him when he had been caused even greater pain by someone made of flesh and blood?

He hadn't intended to proclaim his love and propose marriage, but it had all suddenly spilled out of him. Before, he had thought the spontaneity present in some of the holovids he had seen was strange; now, however, he understood. And stars, how that understanding hurt. "Lovesickness" was too light a term.

When he finally arrived at Yoda's hut, he found Mara talking with Yoda and the spirit of Qui-Gon. She studiously avoided his gaze, bringing on him a fresh wave of sadness.

Despairing, he cast about his brain, trying to find some sort of solution to his troubles, but not even the holovids on love which he could recall helped. If only Han were here—surely _he_ would know what to do.

"Luke," greeted Qui-Gon softly.

"Master Qui-Gon, Master Yoda, Mara," he nodded at them. "I have—have returned from the cave." He forced his thoughts back to that dark place, knowing there was no sense in dwelling on the scene that had passed between him and Mara—at least, not at present, anyway. "I had a vision."

"Indeed?" Yoda grunted.

"I saw someone who started killing Vrentlla...She—she was my bantha partner on Tatooine...I almost gave in to the Dark Side to try to save her, but I held myself back...And then—then I found that the person killing her was me—I had expected it, though I'm not quite sure why. What does it mean?"

Mara listened as Qui-Gon replied to Luke:

"I guess you are not used to the symbolic, young one. That figure served as a warning—there is always a danger that one might become the very type of person one hates."

The smaller Jedi Master tapped his gimer stick on the ground. "Yes. Constantly beware the Dark Side, you must."

As Luke asked the two Masters a few more questions and attended to their responses, Mara thought back to her own experience in the cave. She didn't plan to tell a single soul of what she had seen in that cave, of what had happened...

For in that cave, she had been given a vision of Palpatine...and she had bowed down before him.


	24. Choosing

He watched as the Imperial leader paced back and forth in barely contained rage. His black robes were swishing lightly against the floor, rasping out their own irritation. Word of the Kashyyyk insurrection had reached the ruler, and he was furious. His fists were clenched at his sides, and it almost seemed as if a dark aura were emanating from him.

At last, the outraged man proclaimed in a voice that was a low hiss, "The Wookiees must be killed. They must all be destroyed—every last one of them. First, Wookiee Planet C must go—and then any remaining stragglers of the Wookiee race. They must all die."

Thrawn gazed at the man standing before him, by no means missing the flicker of madness in the other's yellow and orange eyes. He considered his superior's question carefully before answering. In truth, the Chiss admired the Wookiees' sense of honor, and he did not wish to destroy them. If he had seen reason for doing so, however, he would not have hesitated in accepting the task. But he did not see any such reason, and he wanted to make certain that the Force user fully understood what he was asking.

"To persecute an entire species would give the Rebels a rallying point," Thrawn pointed out. "Perhaps it would be more beneficial to retake Kashyyyk instead. The Wookiees were a helpful labor force, and they were instrumental to the construction of the first Death Star."

Palpatine snarled, "I do not care about what the Wookiees have done for the Empire or about what they can do in the future. I want them all destroyed. We will squash the pathetic band of Rebels—let them rally around what they will. In the end, it shall not matter."

Thrawn pursed his lips, his red eyes glinting in quiet disapproval. But it was dangerous to question the commands of his superior, even for one in his position, so he remained quiet.

The Sith Lord soon spoke again, turning to stare at the Grand Admiral. "In addition to this irritating problem, word has reached me of potentially rebellious activity on Honoghr."

The importance of that statement was not lost on Thrawn, and his red eyes narrowed. If the Noghri were to turn against those they once viewed as their saviors, then they could prove to be quite a formidable foe...But the thought of them rising up against the Empire was one that seemed somewhat out of place. They were so deeply entrenched in their belief that the Empire had given them great aid...For them to change their minds would mean that—

"Do you think that Vader is involved?" Thrawn asked abruptly.

Palpatine waved a dismissive hand. "It does not matter if he was involved or not. I want the planet destroyed."

"Are you certain of the Noghri's treachery?" queried the Chiss, still not completely convinced. "Is it possible that it is not too late to convert them back to our side?"

"We do not need their aid any more than we need the aid of the Wookiees," growled the Force user adamantly. "I want you to destroy them. And they are not the only pathetic life forms which should be removed from this galaxy..."

As Palpatine began to list off several more planets he wanted obliterated, Thrawn's mood began to darken. The planets which the ruler of the Empire was listing were not limited to ones which appeared to be planning treachery. Instead, they were all planets in which non-humans were the primary inhabitants.

That Emperor Palpatine was xenophobic was something which had always been obvious. One had to simply look at the military for proof of it. It was very rare indeed for a non-human like Thrawn to be included among the Empire's military ranks, and he had attained his position due to his tactical genius alone. Well, that and perhaps the resemblance his species had to humans. He had long suspected that a different non-human—like a Rodian, perhaps—would never have been tolerated, no matter how skilled in battle.

And now here was evidence of an acceleration of the xenophobia which had always been present. If Palpatine were to try to first wipe out all non-human planets in his Empire, surely the aliens present in his military would not be far behind. Thrawn's face hardened, and he began to carefully observe the Emperor and the erratic nature of his movements. But Thrawn's gaze kept returning to the Imperial ruler's eyes—and the madness he could see flaring up inside them.

* * *

Stones swirled through the foggy air.

The sight would have been quite impressive on _any_ planet, but the dreary mysteriousness of Dagobah made it even more so. Three meters up in the air, several tiny gray rocks made up a circle which was in turn surrounded by a larger circle with larger stones—and so on for a total of seven circles. They twisted in the air, each circle spinning in an opposite direction from its neighbors. Underneath the circle was Luke.

He stared intently upward at the rocks, the evidence of his hard work glistening on his forehead in the form of tiny beads of moisture. The fingers of his right hand were outstretched, and his feet were planted firmly on the swampy ground. His entire being strained to keep the concentric circles moving in their ethereal dance.

Nearby, Mara stood. She was piling her own rocks on top of each other in a jagged line, a very sour look pasted on her face. As she performed her task, she studiously avoided looking at Luke and examining the feelings of inadequacy which threatened to overcome her. Qui-Gon Jinn—who had apparently decided to appear to her frequently—watched her efforts and made occasional comments. She had a great combat sense, and she knew it, but she was not very skilled at levitation—there was just something about small objects that seemed slippery to her Force sense. She refused, however, to be utterly bested at it by Luke. Mostly bested, maybe. But she wouldn't stand idly by and go down without a fight. That wasn't who she was.

Her resolve firm, she began to lift more stones up into the air. She soon sensed Yoda's approach, however, and set the rocks down on the ground in ill-disguised relief. The similar motion Luke made was filled with reluctance—_he_ had been enjoying himself. As Mara reached up to her forehead to remove the perspiration that had gathered there, she scowled at noticing her fellow Jedi apprentice wiping his own sweat off his brow. She waited until he was finished before moving to sweep away her own droplets of moisture. She refused to appear to be attempting do something in sync with him. Blast him, anyway.

She finally turned to look at the small Jedi Master, and what she saw shocked her. His ancient green brow was furrowed with worried lines, and his movements were so slow that his age seemed to hang on him like durasteel chains. The change was very marked, and she was unable to prevent herself from taking a step backward in surprise.

"Master Yoda?" Luke queried gently, moving forward. His face had formed into a frown, and the worry he was feeling could be easily sensed.

But then Master Yoda shook his head, and some of the years passed from his face. Still, there remained a persistent tiredness lurking behind his eyes. "Fine, am I," he told the young man in a voice that somehow lacked sincerity. He pointedly moved his focus to Qui-Gon and asked with uncharacteristic heaviness, "How goes their training?" A small groan escaped him, but he refused to acknowledge the concern filling the three sets of eyes which rested on him.

There was a pause, and Mara watched as Qui-Gon observed the ancient Jedi Master carefully for a few moments before at last opening his mouth to answer the question. "It goes well, Master Yoda. Their focus has certainly improved since they've been here." The Jedi Master crossed his blue-tinged arms and gave the two pupils a smile. But his eyes quickly moved back to Yoda, and the corners of his mouth seemed to be tugging downward despite his attempt at good cheer.

"Their Force bond," Yoda prompted, looking at him with a blank face, "discussed it, have you?"

"No." The spirit spread his hands. "I felt it was best coming from you."

"Hmm," grunted the corporeal Jedi Master. He gazed at Luke and Mara for a few seconds, and Mara found herself looking away in perturbation. She didn't want to be having this conversation.

Finally, Yoda spoke. "Very rare, such a Force bond is. Sometimes, when together two Force users come, a close connection springs up between them. If nurtured, then very powerful, the bond can become. Usually, occurs, it does, between a Master and a Padawan, though other instances are there."

Mara was staring so resolutely at a murky plant below her that she started when she heard Luke speak.

"This bond," the young man began hesitatingly, "does it bind two people together forever?" There was a strangely hopeful quality to his voice.

Yoda prodded the ground with his gimer stick, looking a little uncomfortable. "Ties their fates together, usually, it does, though it does not have to be so. Over time, it can become permanent. Severed, it _can_ be, but the separation is very painful. Hmm. Very painful."

"I didn't ask for that bond," Mara said tightly, the strain she was feeling clearly evident in her voice. Her green eyes flared as she moved them to rest on Luke. The sadness in his eyes almost made her heart break anew.

"The Force sometimes chooses to give us things when we haven't asked for them," the blue Jedi spirit told her with the gentleness that was characteristic of him. "You should view it as a gift—not as a curse."

The young woman turned away in frustration. "I don't want anyone in my mind. It's private. To become a Jedi, it's not required to give up all of your privacy, is it?" She swiveled back around, her arms crossed in front of her chest. All she could think about was how terrible this unasked-for bond was. It had been hard enough for her to _decide_ to become a Jedi—and then to have this thrust on her! It was almost more than she could bear.

"You may one day be thankful for the bond," Qui-Gon responded with irritating calmness.

"And maybe I won't," she returned caustically. She then paused and took in a deep breath, trying to restrain her temper. "It's just not necessary. There is no reason why this bond should exist."

Yoda gave a slow nod which spoke volumes. With it, he was acknowledging her aversion to the idea of a close mental connection with another being while also indicating that her aversion was basically groundless. She suddenly felt like a child, but she refused to back down. It didn't matter what they thought of her, she told herself. She ignored the niggling little voice that tried to tell her that matters were no longer as they had once been—and that she _did_ care.

"Speak of it again, we will not," Yoda said softly. He raised his head with agonizing slowness. "Been meditating, I have. Time for you both to leave Dagobah, it is."

Luke and Mara exchanged a look of surprise, and the former echoed, "Leave?" He frowned in confusion and queried further, "Why? We—we are not yet Jedi, are we?"

"No. Jedi, you are not—but needed elsewhere, you are. A great disturbance in the Force, I have felt. No more time, do we have." It was obvious Yoda was troubled, and Mara knew that willingly letting them leave without having finished their training was something that went against his entire being—he was forever preaching patience and had often brushed aside Mara's attempts to leave the planet with his unending supply of Jedi platitudes. For him to urge them to leave—well, it meant there must be something ominous coming over the horizon. The sensation of uneasiness in her gut merely confirmed it.

"Then we will go," Luke said quietly.

Yoda nodded and turned away from them with the sorrowfully disgruntled nature of one fighting handfuls of convictions and words. The slowness of his movements called attention to him, but the sight of his back somehow forestalled any comment.

Mara took her eyes off the centuries-old being and began to walk away, ready to gather her supplies and blast off this mudhole. She only wished that the Skipray Blastboat which served as her transportation was built for one person instead of five. Something, however, caused her to turn back around, and she saw Luke remained staring at Yoda with an odd single-minded intensity.

Impatient that her ship partner wasn't coming, she began to prepare a caustic phrase. But the words disappeared as she saw Yoda clench his head in pain. His head was thrust back and forth as wave after wave of _something_ hit him. Indecipherable phrases were issued from his mouth as he fell to his knees. And then at last he was still, his head pointed down at the ground, his arms buried in the swamp. His lips moved ever so gently, and a whisper—barely audible—escaped them: "Again, I must try."

Luke had rushed to the Jedi Master's side near-immediately, and he reached out a gentle hand and asked, "What do you mean, Master?" He helped the wizened being to his feet and tried to help clean the mud and water dripping down Yoda's body. After a second or two, however, the Jedi Master brushed away his efforts with a wave of his hand.

"Master Yoda—what is wrong?" Luke asked, his voice so full of compassion that Mara felt her breath catch in her throat.

The Jedi furrowed his brow and took a few seconds to contemplate something. But at last, he lifted his head and told them, "A vision, I have seen. I must go with you."

* * *

Anakin and Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts led them into the Grand Dukha where their arrival was awaited by the ruling Dynasts. Anakin was carrying Plakhmil's body in his arms, and he moved to stand in front of one of the female Maitrakhs. The Force told him that she belonged to the clan of Baikh'vair—the clan which Plakhmil had once been a part of. He gently placed the Noghri's lifeless form before her and knelt and bowed his head. "He is dead because of the Empire," he told her softly.

"Are you sure he is not dead because of you?" The Maitrakh's words were low, but they carried throughout the metal structure.

The words cut Anakin to the quick, and he looked up with pleading eyes. "The Empire must be stopped," he said in a voice that was torn with emotion. "The Noghri must help the Rebellion against the Empire. You must come with me to the Rebel base—"

He was cut off by the female Noghri. "Why should we help you fight your war? These human struggles—"

"They're not just—"

"—these _human_ struggles mean nothing to us. You only wish to bring more danger and death to our people."

The words were like banthas ramming Anakin's heart against his chest, but he shrugged off the hand Obi-Wan placed on him. "You're right." The words filled the room like a choking fog. "You should put your children at risk because of me no longer. I have done enough to your people." He rose to his feet and turned to go, but Airakh's mewl stopped him in his tracks.

"It is not just a human battle. We were on Kashyyyk. We saw the horrible treatment the Wookiee people received at Imperial hands. We fought beside Anakin clan Skywalker with proud hearts, and Plakhmil clan Baikh'vair died with honor. There can be no doubt of that."

One of Obi-Wan's Noghri escorts stepped forward to speak. He was normally quiet, but now phrases seemed to flow forth freely from his mouth. "As one who slaved under the Empire and who is no stranger to the often greedy hearts of humans, I can attest to the goodness of these Jedi's hearts. They have helped the Wookiee people, and they wish to help all peoples. We cannot refuse to help them in turn." He fell silent, and Anakin gave him a small grateful smile, sensing how difficult it was for the Noghri to speak thusly.

The Dynasts and the Maitrakhs exchanged several glances, and one of the Dynasts finally said, "Jedi, please leave us while we hold a council."

The two Jedi bowed their heads and left, and the shorter of the pair placed a comforting hand on the other's back.

* * *

As Pellaeon entered the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to his superior. Or, to be precise, his eyes were drawn to what was holding his superior's attention.

The blue-skinned humanoid was staring intently at a sculpture formed of minute strings of artificial and natural substances. Materials such as gold and hair and cloth were intertwined together, forming a hole-filled mass that was not quite spherical. From the holes in the sculpture came a light glow. The luminescent stone at the mass's heart emanated not just light but also heat, and colors played across the near-globe as it rotated on a pedestal underneath a glittering light.

Thrawn's expression was often serene as he gazed upon pieces of art, but Pellaeon could sense in the Grand Admiral a thread of discontent which weaved its way across his superior's pale blue face. In front of anyone else, Thrawn would have hidden his displeasure behind a perfectly chilling expression. But—for reasons unknown to Pellaeon—Thrawn expressed utter trust in his captain...And Pellaeon had learned a lot because of it.

The Imperial captain stared at the piece of art, trying to figure out what quality of it held Thrawn's attention so completely, but the sculpture seemed to be merely a mass of strings to him. He could not understand its significance. He had never been taught to appreciate art...He had always been too impatient for a military life. For some reason, that thought made him sad.

At last, Thrawn spoke, though he never took his scarlet eyes off the sculpture. "The people of Obaysans were among the most peaceful species in the galaxy. They were aware of the chaos present in the galaxy, but they also believed that a chord of harmony unites all beings. Interestingly, they were physically incapable of surviving off their home planet due to their dependency on the constant humming—inaudible to most humanoids' ears—which emanated from the stone at the center of their planet. Despite their love of the rock, they traded select amounts of it for supplies such as precious stones and metals. They showed a willingness to trade with the Empire, but they also traded with peoples who were not allies of the Empire. I was requested to decimate the population for that reason, but I refused. Had there been a tactical advantage—had they been shipping weapons, food, or medical supplies—I would have destroyed the planet without a second thought. But I thought the reason insufficient, and so I disobeyed orders...But the Obaysans met with death anyway when a Grand Moff destroyed the stone at the heart of their planet."

The humanoid paused, reaching a blue-tinged hand out to hover in front of the sculpture, but he never actually touched it. Finally, he continued to speak once again. "Though I may make decisions with a military mind, I am not heartless. I will kill when death is needed, but I refuse to ever do so indiscriminately." He reached out and pushed a button which made the pedestal stopped its rotation, and he gazed at it from a certain angle. "I wonder, Captain, what your thoughts are on following the commands of your superiors...Should a being blindly follow orders, just so that he might adhere to the side he initially believed was right?" He brought up his glittering scarlet eyes to rest them on Pellaeon. "I used to believe that, but now I am not so certain."

Pellaeon shifted in place, trying to gather his thoughts. He was not sure what he should say to the Grand Admiral, and he was saved from making a reply when his commander began to speak again:

"Though it is not information your security clearance makes you privy to, I must inform you that the Emperor is still alive."

Pellaeon started in surprise. "What?" he gasped. Belatedly, he added, "Sir."

Thrawn hesitated, considering his choice of words. "To put it more properly, he has been reborn. As a Force user, he was able to move his essence to a cloned body when his old body was destroyed. Unfortunately, the cloning process appears to be an imperfect one, particularly for Force users, and instability is not uncommon...As a result, perhaps, of the instability of the clone body, the Emperor has given me a rather lengthy list of planets to destroy. Strangely enough, Captain, only a few of them actually have any connections with the Rebel Alliance. The only thing they have in common is that their native inhabitants are all non-humans..." He paused and asked in a voice that was almost whimsical, "Are you xenophobic, Captain?"

The human straightened upon hearing the question and lifted his chin up into the air. "I am proud to serve under your command, Grand Admiral," he said honestly and proudly. "I feel I have learned much in a short time. I feel you have—have taken me under your wing. You have bestowed an honor upon me which I do not deserve."

Thrawn gave him a small smile. "Ah, but you do deserve it, Captain. I am only afraid that I may soon put you in a predicament...I may soon prove a traitor to the Imperial cause. Perhaps it would be best if you were the one to turn me in...Perhaps you should even do so now."

"Sir?" Pellaeon asked, blinking in confusion. "I am afraid I do not understand what you mean—"

"I have been watching the Emperor, Captain. I know, beyond a doubt, that he is insane. Despite what I told you several moments ago, I suspect that his insanity cannot be wholly attributed to the cloning process. Even before now, I have noticed an ongoing deterioration in the brilliant mind that managed to convert the Republic into an Empire. In actuality, his present state is not terribly different from the state he was in before."

Pellaeon furrowed his brow and stared down at the floor. "You are certain of this, sir?" he asked quietly.

Thrawn replied in a low voice, "I am. You know, Captain, I have been considering the differences between an empire and a republic for the first time in quite a while. I have come to the conclusion that the former allows for more greed and the latter for more delay and stagnation...And yet, even a non-xenophobic empire suffers from some significant problems. If an empire is not discriminating against aliens, then it is probably discriminating against other specific groups which do things that make those in power unhappy. There are too many secrets in an empire which can only be uncovered by perpetuating greed and punishing the discontent. In an empire, greed soon leads to instability in its rulers, which in turn leads those rulers to make terrible choices which cannot be undermined because the ruled have no power. As a result of the unhappiness of the ruled, rebellions must be constantly put down. In a republic, planets which are discontent with the galactic government can at least withdraw and choose to make their own decisions and deal with issues of trade on their own. They may struggle, but at least they have the option of autonomy." A sense of grimness came over him as he told Pellaeon, "I joined the Empire with the goal of gathering military might to help protect my own people, but I have lost sight of that. Though the Empire may have a large military, the Rebellion has begun to prove that size is not all that counts. A republic would be more likely to defend my people than the Empire. Particularly when one considers the Empire as it now stands..." He fell silent, allowing the Imperial captain time to digest his words.

Pellaeon felt just as grim as the Grand Admiral looked. He knew Thrawn was not taking this decision lightly. There were so many different factors swirling around in the air between them that it almost made him feel dizzy. The thought of a reborn Force user leading the Empire was almost enough to give Pellaeon nightmares on its own. Was the Emperor back? And was he truly crazy? Somehow, he felt Thrawn was telling the truth. Pellaeon had known that _somebody_ was leading the Empire, and he had known that it was not Thrawn. For it to be the returned Emperor made a lot of sense.

He turned his mind back to his own reasons for joining the Empire. In truth, all he had wanted as a young man was to become a naval officer and leave Coruscant. With all that he knew now, what were his reasons for staying with the Empire? Loyalty? Habit?

He frowned and furrowed his brow. He had seen some major atrocities committed by the Empire. When the Republic had changed to an Empire, he had remained in the military, but his career had stalled. He had been devoted to the Imperial Fleet as an institution. He had enjoyed the rigid discipline and the occasional bursts of adrenaline, but he had hated how Vader constantly killed the men serving under his command. He had also disliked the creation of the Death Star, feeling it to be a misuse of resources and power. Yet he still had remained. He had enjoyed the military life, but his place in it had stagnated. That is, it had until Thrawn had come along.

Captain Gilad Pellaeon looked up to meet the scarlet eyes of Grand Admiral Thrawn, and he gave a sharp salute, his mind suddenly made up. "I will follow you anywhere, Grand Admiral."

The blue-skinned humanoid gave him a smile that was both grateful and bitter. "I am glad to hear that, Captain."


	25. Doubting

Leia shook her head with a smile as she entered her office, her lips still tingling from the warmth of Han's parting kiss. Her daily picnics with the smuggler usually ended with her being in one of two moods: happy or annoyed. Fortunately, today it was the former.

When she stepped through the door, however, her smile immediately turned into a frown. The normally stoic but now pale-faced Winter was staring at something in what could only be described as abject horror. On closer inspection, Leia realized that what was holding her adopted sister's attention was the small holovision resting on a console by the communications unit.

"Leia," Winter whispered, "come here."

Leia was by the other woman's side in an instant. Placing a hand on Winter's shoulder, she turned her gaze to the holovision. What she saw sent chills down her spine.

Staring out at her were the cold, cruel eyes of Emperor Palpatine.

His mouth was moving, forming words, but she couldn't even bring herself to heed what he was saying. As those menacing eyes stared at her, she just kept thinking, _No, no, no..._

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she finally found her voice. When she did, she asked, "Is this some sort of childish prank or Imperial diversion?" But as soon as the words were made, she knew this was no falsehood. The truth of what was happening was being screamed at her by the Force. Her heart throbbing painfully, she wondered in a near-panic, _What now?_

"I don't know," Winter replied, unaware of the Alderaanian princess's thoughts. "It certainly sounds like him."

Leia turned around and slammed her hand on her desk with anger. Bowing her head down, she growled, "It _is_ him. Somehow, I know it is." Her animosity for the dictator bubbled up to the surface, and it felt as if desperation were squeezing the blood out of her heart as she clenched her fist so hard her knuckles turned white.

On the holovision, the Imperial leader continued his rant. Words like "impure" and "destroyed" were frequently peppered in his dialogue.

"Listen to his words, Leia," Winter responded at last. "This anti-alien tirade could be beneficial for the Alliance. It is terrible he is alive, yes, but the whole galaxy can hear what he is saying. Perhaps non-humans will realize the danger in the Empire and flock to the Alliance."

Leia took in a deep breath and let her frustrations drain away. She was always so quick to jump to anger—she needed to learn from Winter and keep a level head. "You're right," she admitted, straightening up and moving to look at the holovision again.

The door opened, and Opakwa and Threepio walked in. Both women turned to look at them.

"Master Sun's Skipray Blastboat has arrived," Opakwa noted, a hint of excitement in his voice. When not involved in serving as translators, he and Threepio had been monitoring Yavin IV's traffic. They claimed to do so in order to be readily available for any necessary translator duties, but Leia knew it was really because Opakwa missed Luke and Threepio missed Artoo.

"Thank you, Opakwa," Leia said, placing a gentle hand on his silver arm. She turned to Winter and sighed, "I will deal with this soon enough. I'm going to go see my brother first."

She turned and hurried out, followed by the two protocol droids.

* * *

Anakin was sitting in the pilot's seat of the shuttle,resisting the urge to pace. Normally, he wasn't one for nervous twitches, but Time seemed to be pressing in on him, and he couldn't keep himself from tapping the fingers of his right hand on his knee.

Artoo whistled something which earned him a glare from Anakin.

"I am _not_ more impatient than I used to be," the human retorted. "It just seems as if we are always waiting for the Noghri."

Obi-Wan, who had come out of a meditation trance a few minutes before, chided him gently, "Be patient, Anakin."

"Well, patience never has been my strong suit," muttered the younger man. He leaned down to stroke the head of the caged ysalamir on the floor.

The creature just stared ahead, utterly expressionless.

"You know," Anakin commented, "if ysalamiri weren't so blasted lifeless, I might grow to like the thing." His mouth lifted upward in a grin, but it quickly faded when he glanced at the ship's chrono. "They're taking longer than they should."

Obi-Wan looked at the time and frowned. "I had not realized I was meditating for that long. It certainly does seem unusual that they are taking this long to reach a decision."

"Well, it probably can't bode well for us," the younger Jedi muttered. He crossed his arms and prepared himself for an even longer wait.

It was some time later when Artoo whistled in surprise, alerting the two human occupants of the ship of Airakh clan Khim'bar's arrival.

Anakin jumped out of his chair. "What is their decision?"

The Noghri's expression was serious. "Please come with me, Anakin clan Skywalker, Jedi Kenobi."

"What's wrong?" Anakin queried, worried.

"Please, just come to the Grand Dukha with me."

"Come on, Anakin," Obi-Wan said with his characteristic gentleness. "We will learn their intentions soon enough."

Anakin took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to release his impatience into the air. He didn't think it was working, but at least he was trying. "Artoo," he ordered, "stay here."

The droid beeped in protest, but the former Darth Vader insisted, "Artoo, I mean it."

Artoo made a sad beeping noise, clearly put out, but didn't move to follow them.

Airakh led the two humans down the shuttle ramp and toward the Grand Dukha.

Anakin felt as if his nerves were fried. "Can you at least tell us whether it is good news?"

"I will not comment on the nature of our news for you." He gave a small smile, which on a Noghri was quite frightening-looking. "Anakin clan Skywalker, I am afraid you must exercise a little patience, difficult though that may be for you."

Inside the Grand Dukha, Anakin's heart sank at the serious faces of the Noghri whose eyes were on him. A part of him wanted to just leave now—clearly, they had no intention of helping the Alliance—but he would see this through to the end.

One of the Dynasts soon began to speak. "We have long been in council, as you are well aware."

In acknowledgement, Anakin bowed his head. He stared down at the boots beneath him, feeling strangely glad that they were brown rather than black.

"Based on two factors, we have decided to help the Alliance."

Anakin's head shot up. It took all his effort to keep from exclaiming, "What?"

"One of these factors is the report from the escorts we sent with you to Kashyyyk. We have heard details of the Empire's atrocities and your own actions. Just as important, however, was the recent holocast made by Emperor Palpatine."

This time, Anakin didn't even try to suppress his initial reaction: "_What_?"

"Emperor Palpatine is dead," Obi-Wan stated flatly, though Anakin could see he was uneasy.

A different Dynast spoke. "The galaxy may have once thought so, but now, it seems, the reports of his death are doubted."

"When did this holocast take place?" Anakin queried. He was finding it hard to breathe, and there was a tightness in his chest.

"It took place a few hours ago. Some of the young Noghri are given the assignment of monitoring current events. One such Noghri disturbed our meeting. We began to chastise him, but he quickly told of his news. We will not lie to you. This news troubles us. The Galactic Emperor appears to harbor a great disregard for the lives of non-humans."

Anakin reached to the Force as Obi-Wan did, both of them seeking to verify the truth behind the Dynast's words. But they could sense no lies.

"We will withhold judgment on the question of whether it truly is Palpatine or not," commented Obi-Wan. "But I wonder if we might see the holocast?"

One of the Dynasts nodded to a young Noghri standing near the entranceway. The Noghri stepped forward and handed a datacard to Anakin.

"You will be able to watch that on your ship," the Dynast noted. "The speech appears to concern the Emperor's hatred of non-humans. As we said before, this news troubles us. In addition, we have heard reports of Imperial ships amassing. As we were once your allies, Anakin clan Skywalker, when you were the Emperor's second-in-command, we do not have much choice but to turn against the Empire as you have. The Emperor will not allow us to live, even if we claim to be his staunch supporters. And the Noghri people are warriors; we will not stand idly by. We will help your Alliance."

Thankful, Anakin prostrated himself. "I thank you."

After making his own gesture of gratitude, Obi-Wan noted, "We both thank you, but if this news about Palpatine is true, we must waste no time. We must leave immediately." He reached into his Jedi robes and pulled out a datacard of his own. "I placed the coordinates to Yavin IV—the Alliance base—on this data disk, in hopes that I might need it."

Anakin looked at the older man in surprise, but Obi-Wan just turned to him with a smile.

A Dynast gestured, and the Noghri who had given them a datacard moved forward to take this new datacard from them. Then the Dynast told them, "We will soon send our best Noghri warriors to the headquarters of the Alliance."

Airakh, who was standing close to Anakin, moved a step closer and added under his breath, "And they will also send a diplomat or two to discuss joining the Alliance on a more permanent basis. But you did not hear that from me, Anakin clan Skywalker."

Anakin turned his head to look at the Noghri, who gave him a tooth-filled grin. "I am glad to not hear that," the former Vader said with a grin.

Several minutes later, they had boarded the ship and made the jump into hyperspace. Then they began to play the holocast which they had heard so much about.

It did not take long for Anakin to admit, "That must be him."

Obi-Wan, though inclined to agree, if just because of the sheer villainy evident in the ruler's eyes, asked, "How can you be so sure? Is it the Force?"

Anakin frowned. "Perhaps a little bit. But mostly I think it is because I was with him for so long and listened to so many of his rants. There is just a bearing which he has..."

"Well," Obi-Wan said quietly, "regardless of whether it truly is him or not, I think we have a large problem on our hands."

Artoo whistled mournfully.

* * *

Luke was the first one out of the Skipray Blastboat after it landed in the Massassi hangar. His sister, Opakwa, and Threepio were quickly approaching the ship, and he gave them a brief grin and wave before turning to help Mara and Yoda. Mara, of course, rejected his aid, and Yoda only accepted a little of it.

Leia's expression of warmth faltered a little at the sight of Yoda, but she soon pasted a smile back on her face. She moved forward and embraced her brother; then after nodding at Mara, she turned her attention to the small Jedi standing before her. "Master Yoda, it is good to see you again," she told him, though her voice didn't sound completely sincere.

"Hmm," the Jedi returned. He gazed at her with a pensiveness that made her uneasy, and so she turned to her brother.

"I am really glad you are back, Luke," she said with a smile.

"So am I, Master Sun," Opakwa chimed in.

"Indeed," Threepio added.

"Thank you," Luke said with a small smile. He told his sister quietly, "I wish we were here for a different reason...But there's something bad coming."

She nodded. "I know. Have you heard the news about Palpatine?"

Yoda turned away with an expression of pain, and Luke gave her a curious look. Mara simply paled.

"By those expressions, I guess you haven't. He's revealed himself—somehow, he's alive."

"That's impossible," Mara growled with an intense ferociousness. "We all know that he died on the Death Star." Suddenly, her face became white. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Leia asked darkly.

"Unless it's a clone." Mara scowled.

"A clone? Oh my!" Threepio exclaimed.

Ignoring the protocol droid, Mara noted, "Palpatine had his own private stash of Spaarti cloning cylinders. I wouldn't be surprised if he had taken a tissue sample from himself."

"Well, it's beginning to look even more and more like the Alliance is going to need to take a stand," Leia murmured to herself. She crossed her arms and frowned pensively.

"While you're trying to figure all this out, I'll be in the jungle, killing things," Mara muttered. She began to stalk off, clearly in a bad mood.

"Mara," Luke called after her, but she ignored him. He sighed.

"She's not actually going out there to kill things, Luke," Leia said, trying to be reassuring.

"I know," he replied. But he still looked immensely sad, and she pitied him.

"Watching your anger, you are not, Leia," Yoda commented.

She turned to him in surprise. "What?"

"Do not let it control you. The dark path, that is."

Leia opened her mouth, ready to protest, but then she closed it. She knew just as well as he did that she was not doing a good job of controlling her anger. It was her weakness...Perhaps she'd never been meant to be a Jedi. "Yes, Master Yoda," she said quietly.

He gave her a tired smile. "Take me to some quarters, can you?"

"Of course." She looked at her brother. "Yours are still available, Luke."

"Thank you," he murmured.

* * *

Luke watched as Leia led Yoda away from the Skipray Blastboat, Threepio at her heels.

Opakwa, however, did not go with them. "Are you doing well, Master Sun?"

"Not exactly," he replied honestly. "I am having a few...courtship problems."

"Oh, well I can certainly help you with romance, Master Sun. My databanks are full of information that could help you."

Luke patted the droid's silver shoulder. "Thank you, Opakwa. But I had a different person in mind."

"Oh. Very well then."

He nodded in the direction where Leia, Yoda, and Threepio had disappeared. "Why don't you go with them? I'll try to catch up with you later."

"If that is what you prefer, Master Sun."

"It is," he smiled. The protocol droid toddled off, and Luke watched him until he was out of his line of sight. Then he reached out to the Force, searching for Han's presence. There was a giant mass of life forms within the Massassi Temple, but he guided his Force sense first to the _Millennium Falcon_. Sure enough, he was able to find the familiar presences of Han and Chewbacca without any trouble.

He began the short trip to the _Falcon_, his boots clacking against the hangar floor. He found Chewbacca working on some repairs on top of the ship.

"Hey, Chewie," he greeted.

The Wookiee growled out a welcome.

"Is Han inside?" Luke asked, though he already knew the answer.

The Wookiee growled an affirmative and gestured for him to go in.

Luke jogged up the ramp and went straight to the hyperdrive, where he found a very dirty Han dealing with a mass of tangled wires.

"Kid!" the older man exclaimed upon seeing him. He grabbed Luke and gave him a greasy hug. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too," Luke smiled. He nodded at the hyperdrive. "Having problems?"

Han snorted. "Just the usual."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You here to help?" the smuggler asked hopefully.

"Actually, I'm here to ask for help."

Han cocked his head. "I'm all ears, kid."

Hesitance suddenly washed over Luke, but he pushed through it. "Well...You know how you told me to come to you if I ever needed help with romance?"

Han's face suddenly broke out into a splitting grin. "Uh huh."

"Well—I need help."

Han chuckled. "All right. So, tell me what happened."

Luke averted his gaze from his friend, uncomfortable. He clasped his hands together and then ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair. "I told Mara I loved her...and that I wanted to marry her."

Han let out a bark of laughter. "You proposed to _that_ spitfire? You're braver than I thought."

But Luke looked so miserable that Han took pity on him. "Kid, look. Your good friend Han Solo will never let you down when it comes to giving advice about romance. So, here's what we're gonna do..."


	26. Climbing

His fur rippled in pleasure. He had been right to follow Garm Bel Iblis away from the Massassi Temple. He had done so carefully, of course, and from afar, but even though he had quickly ducked behind a tree when Bel Iblis finally stopped, he had managed to get a brief glimpse of an unfamiliar human male. But though the two humans were not visible to him, he could make out what they were saying, which was good. Even more fortunate, however, was the fact that he'd had a voice recorder on hand. It was even now turned on and clutched in his right hand.

"I came, just like you requested. Now, who are you?" Bel Iblis asked in a gruff voice.

"My name is Captain Pellaeon. I serve under Grand Admiral Thrawn."

There was a pause. "Is this the Grand Admiral who has been behind all the recent Imperial attacks?"

"If you are referring to the recent attacks in which a military genius is obviously in control, yes." Pellaeon seemed somewhat amused.

"Why are you here—and why am _I_ here?" Bel Iblis was less than amused.

"The Admiral is an excellent strategist, as you've already seen, but he is also a good judge of character. He deemed that it would be best for me to meet with you. Perhaps it is because we were both born on Corellia; perhaps it is because he believes you most likely to listen. I do not know the specifics of why he chose you over Mothma or Organa, but I trust his judgment."

"What does he want from me?"

"I suppose you have viewed the holocast made by the Emperor?"

There was a pause in the conversation, perhaps for a nod.

"The Emperor that you saw was a clone. The Grand Admiral tells me that he is unstable, and based on that holocast, I doubt that you can disagree."

Bel Iblis's voice was still gruff. "I still do not understand what this has to do with you being here."

"Perhaps you might understand more if I were to tell you that Thrawn is not human."

There was a hissing intake of breath, and Fey'lya's ears raised up inquisitively.

"You must be mistaken, Captain. Even before now, the Emperor would not have allowed a non-human to reach such a position as Grand Admiral."

"A military genius like Thrawn was able to," Pellaeon said firmly. "Neither he nor I approve of the path the Emperor is taking."

"Why didn't he come himself?"

"Thrawn is of a species _I_ had never even seen before I met him. His appearance would attract curiosity. I'm sure you understand that is not something we want right now."

"What is it that you _do_ want?"

"We wish to defect to the Alliance."

Bel Iblis let out a bark of laughter. "And I am supposed to believe you?"

"I came here without any weapons. I see that you have brought a blaster."

"You knew what you were getting into. _I_ didn't. Can you blame me?"

"Of course not. We don't even expect you to take any action right now. We just want you to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" the Alliance leader asked warily.

"During the Battle for Coruscant, you may find you have some allies from an unusual quarter."

"...What do you mean?"

"We know that the Alliance is going to make a move for Coruscant. And we will be there. Our ship is the _Chimaera_, a Super Star Destroyer. When the moment is opportune, the _Chimaera_ will turn against her sister ships."

"You would fire on people you had served with?"

Grimly, Pellaeon answered, "This is war. Sometimes there have to be sacrifices." His voice became a low murmur, as did Bel Iblis's, and Fey'la's ears twitched in annoyance. He needed to hear what else they were saying.

The Bothan peeked around the tree and looked at the two from afar. They were still talking, so he moved several steps toward them. But their voices were so low that he had to get uncomfortably closer to them to make out even _part_ of their sentences, his ears pricked and his eyes studiously studying their small human mouths. He took two more steps, eagerly listening. And that was when he stepped on the tree branch.

Their heads whipped toward him, and letting out a curse, he began to run.

But when Bel Iblis called out, "Fey'lya," he realized there was no point in fleeing, and so he stopped. He surreptitiously hugged the voice recorder to his chest, glancing down briefly at it to press a few buttons on it. A couple of undulations spread across his fur; he was quite pleased with himself, especially considering the situation he was in.

Straightening with dignity, Borsk Fey'lya turned around and walked toward the two humans.

"A Bothan," Pellaeon muttered to himself. "So, he was right."

"Consorting with the enemy," Fey'lya remarked to Bel Iblis, "why, I guess I should have expected that from you."

"I have done nothing wrong," the Alliance leader said flatly.

"Oh, but you have. And even if you kill me, you'll find that I have recorded you talking with this Imperial—and transmitted the data recording to my ship. Even if you decided to kill me, you wouldn't be able to come out of this situation untouched...Unless..."

"Unless what?" Bel Iblis growled.

"Unless you resign from your position as a member of the Triad. Had I been given a little more time, I would have attained one of the positions without resorting to this...But it's no matter. You know, right now, I rather fancy myself a militarily-minded Bothan."

"You think I will just step out of the way for—"

"You have no choice," Fey'lya responded calmly. "You would not want a scandal to harm the Alliance just when it needs its strength the most."

"Actually, he does have a choice," Pellaeon broke in.

Fey'lya turned to him, disgusted. "We were not talking to you, _Imperial_."

"But I am talking to you, and you _will_ listen." The captain brought up a datacard. "This card is a copy of a very important document."

"No document you have is of interest to me," Fey'lya spat, crossing his arms.

"Well, this one actually is." Pellaeon gave him a tight smile. "You see, this document contains details on the truth behind what happened to Caamas...And it implicates quite a few prominent Bothans."

Though Bel Iblis had never believed it possible, Borsk Fey'lya actually seemed to be speechless.

Bel Iblis looked at the datacard Pellaeon held with genuine interest. The tragedy that had befallen the Caamasi shortly after the Clone Wars had ended was a terrible one. After the shields of Caamas had been taken down, millions of Caamasi had been killed by the Empire. There were refugees hidden in places such as Alderaan, but the Caamasi's efforts at mediation and peace-making could no longer be what it once was with their numbers so drastically reduced. The truth behind what had happened to take down the planetary shields had always remained a mystery. But now, it seemed as if part of the mystery was being revealed.

At last, however, Fey'lya began to talk, though he did so in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "I do not know what you mean."

"Well, this file may or may not be a corrupted version of the original...But it is certainly authentic enough to throw the entire Alliance into an anti-Bothan fervor, particularly with the Admiral fanning the flames of hatred." Pellaeon narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I'm not certain what _you_ think, but _I_ think that such a scandal would harm your political chances quite severely indeed."

Fey'lya let out a noise that was somewhere between a hiss and a growl. "Very well. I concede. I will breathe no words of this meeting to anyone."

Pellaeon held out the datacard with something that looked suspiciously like a smirk. "This is for you to keep."

Fey'lya snatched the datacard out of his hand and then twisted away from him. He walked in the direction of the Massassi Temple as fast as he could without jogging, muttering curses all the while.

Bel Iblis turned to Pellaeon. "Looks like I owe you one."

"No," Pellaeon said, amusement tugging at the corners of his eyes, "you owe Grand Admiral Thrawn one."

* * *

Luke stared down at the bundle in his hands. The flowers at the top of the bundle were red.

Han had asked him, "Would you like to find some red ones to match her hair?" And he had replied, "No—green to match her eyes," and had promptly looked surprised at himself. Han had laughed and slapped his shoulder and told him, "You're not as bad at this as you think, Kid. But we won't be able to find any green flowers. They're sort of rare around these parts." And so Luke had reluctantly agreed to red. He'd perked up a bit when he saw the bright green stems and leaves that went with the flowers, and he had even suggested to Han that they pluck a few of the leaves and stuff them into the middle of the flowers to make the green more noticeable—but Han had seemed to believe that would be seen as a sacrilege by the gods of love, so Luke had pursued the idea no further.

But he still wasn't completely sure why he was carrying the plants in the first place. Han's explanation had been: "It's a symbol of romance, Kid—she'll understand, even if you don't." Han had even, much to his surprise and a bit to his suspicion, known exactly what kind of flowers they were. But he couldn't remember what Han had called them, and apparently it didn't matter. "Flowers are flowers," Han had told him at one point, "and women generally love them as long as they aren't poisonous. The flowers, that is." Han had then smirked, pleased with some joke he had made that Luke didn't understand.

So here he was, standing in the outfit Han had conjured up out of who knows where, the shirt of which was far too baggy for a former Tusken Raider accustomed to body wrappings. But he forced his mind away from the thought of changing his clothes, Han's last warning ringing in his ears: "Make sure you don't get dirty. Sometimes women like the rugged type, but you need to be putting your best foot forward if you want her to forgive you." Luke wasn't sure which foot was his best one; he just hoped he didn't trip over either of them.

He inhaled deeply, bringing the flowers up to his chest. He was as ready as he would ever be—though it felt like there were sandbats flying around in his stomach. He reached out with his Force sense and quickly found Mara's bright presence in the jungle. After another deep breath, he began taking what felt like one of the longest journeys of his life.

* * *

"Mara?" ventured a small voice.

With a sigh, Mara rose to her feet. She had gone on a rigorous run and was relaxing beneath a tree. She should have known it would only be so long before _he_ came to her. She pushed a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead and turned to snap at Luke. But any words she was forming disintegrated as she took in his appearance.

He was wearing charcoal pants that were just slightly too long, a dark blue silk shirt that hung loosely on his chest, and gleaming black boots that she could probably see her face in. His hands were clutching a bundle of red flowers. He seemed to be very much the part of a nervous prom date—yet despite any clumsiness involved in the effort to conjure up this image, the effect looked good on him.

"Yes?" she asked at last, finding her voice.

"These are for you," he muttered, thrusting the flowers forward awkwardly.

She took them from him, amused. If he weren't so obviously uncomfortable with his present situation, she might have thrown the flowers at his feet and stormed off. As it was, she was enjoying watching him squirm. While inconspicuously bringing the flowers up to her nose to smell, she couldn't help but admit to herself that they _were_ pretty.

In a scratchy voice, he said, "You look really nice, Mara..." He paused for a second before venturing, "Would you like to go for a walk?" He shifted in place and stared down at the ground, which he seemed to believe had some sort of fascinating invisible spot on it.

She brought her free hand up to her face to hide a grin. Finally, she couldn't help herself: "Did Solo put you up to this?"

He brought his head up sharply to look at her and colored. "N-no," he said unconvincingly. Then he looked back down at the forest floor and muttered, "Maybe." Sighing, he then brought his bright blue eyes up to stare at her. "Mara, please don't be mad at me."

The plaintive note in his voice tugged at her heart strings, and she inclined her head. "All right, Luke...But only because you're failing so miserably at making an apology. The flowers were a very sappy move, but I wouldn't expect any less from Solo."

Instead of replying, Luke held his arm out for her, and she laughed. But she took it, though she couldn't help remarking, "Solo really taught you a lot, didn't he?"

The smile he pinned her with set her pulse to racing, and she turned her head quickly away from him before he could read anything in her face. For some reason, she was finding it hard to hide the way she was feeling.

They walked forward in silence for a few minutes before Luke finally spoke in a slow way that showed his extreme wariness. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to, but I would like to discuss this bond between us sometime, Mara."

"Somehow, I don't think that was one of the topics Solo gave you," she muttered under her breath. But she exhaled out her frustrations and gave him a response that was congenial enough. "Luke, you have to understand—it's hard for me to trust anyone. What I don't understand is how easy it is for you to place your trust in so many different people."

He was quiet for a few moments. "Mara, trust comes when it would hurt more _not_ to trust someone than it would to trust them. If you love someone—if you would risk your life for them without thinking twice—then you _need_ to trust them. Otherwise, you're stuck in..." But the word wouldn't come to him, and he trailed off.

"But if you trust someone, they could hurt you one day."

"But if you don't trust someone you love, you could hurt _them_."

Mara's mouth formed into a thin line. "You keep throwing that word around—'love.' What if you don't know how to love?"

"Everyone knows how to love, Mara. Even Darth Vader knew how to love."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, and she just continued walking, her hand in the crook of his arm. Part of her wanted to pull away—but another part was telling her that it felt good, right...

"Mara, if you would like to remove this bond between us, I will attempt it for your sake..." His voice got really quiet. "But it will hurt so much, Mara."

This time, she did pull away from him. But she didn't say anything; she just looked at him. They had both stopped walking.

"You and this bond have become a part of my life—part of the very air I breathe. If we kill this bond, we will be killing a part of me. And you might never admit it, but it would kill a part of you, too."

Mara turned away from him, closing her eyelids together tightly. How did he know her so well? It was _that_ which frightened her—which made her want to flee. She took a few steps forward, about to rush away, but a hand at the small of her back caused her to pause and reconsider.

* * *

"Mara," Luke said softly, "this connection between us—it's become part of our very being. Would you...sever a limb just because it...disgusted you?"

She whipped around to face him, her green eyes flashing. "You may make me furious sometimes, but don't go making assumptions about what exactly I feel." She softened. "You don't disgust me."

He took a few steps toward her, reaching out to gently touch her arm. She drew it away from him and stepped backward.

"Then why do you..._recoil_ from me almost every time I come near you?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"I'm not used to touch—to being near people."

"But don't you want it? Desire it?" He gently grasped her left hand with both of his hands, pulling the limb toward his abdomen and resting it on his solar plexus.

"What my heart and head want are two different things, Luke," she whispered, curling her fingers together.

There was a great intensity in the moment; their eyes were like tumultuous flames raging in a cage, seeking release. He wanted to press his lips to hers. If he did, he knew she would respond to the intimate touch. It had been so wonderful last time. But he knew that afterward she would run away. And he didn't want that. So he pulled away with great reluctance and moved his gaze to stare at the tree standing slightly to his right. It was the tallest tree in the immediate area, he discovered after a glance around. Pleased, he strode toward it in determination.

"What are you doing?" Mara asked him, her voice laced with incredulity.

He wrapped his arms around the tree and put a foot on its trunk, readying himself. "Climbing a tree," he answered, throwing a smirk her way. He hoisted himself upward, using his hold on the tree's bark—and maybe just the tiniest aid of the Force—to scurry up high enough to grab one of the branches. Clutching the limb with both hands, he was able to swing upward, plant his feet on the trunk, and twist around to rest his knees on the branch.

"I can see that," Mara said dryly. "But _why_ are you up there?"

He peered down at her, grinning playfully. "Why not? You know, this is the second tree I've climbed. The first was on Myrkr. I'm sure you remember that—you were there...taking us all into custody."

"It's not too late to turn you in to the Empire," she muttered beneath her breath. But there was no bite in her voice. She tilted her head, gazing upward at him in interest. "For someone who isn't exactly a professional tree climber, you're pretty good at it."

He paused for a moment and then gave a self-conscious imitation of a shrug that turned out more awkward than he had intended. "I did some rock climbing on Tatooine." He turned his head slightly, and the cheerful expression on his face fell off it when he realized he had torn the right shoulder of his shirt in his hurry to get up the tree. "Oh, no," he whispered, crestfallen. He touched the ripped fabric with an extreme delicateness, brushing off the bits of bark surrounding it.

Though down on the ground, Mara could see what he was looking at, and she rolled her eyes. "You're acting like your best friend just died, Luke. It's just clothes. Of all the problems you could face in the galaxy, tearing your shirt isn't the one to get into tears over."

"But I was supposed to stay clean," he insisted, still looking sorrowful as he stared wide-eyed at the offensive hole.

Mara just shook her head and was about to walk away to go back to the base and shower when he called down to her.

"Don't go."

She turned around, exasperated. "You're in a tree, Luke. I don't want to strain my neck looking up at you."

"Then come up here with me." Beaming at her—as if what he had just said was the greatest suggestion anyone had ever made in the history of Yavin IV (and perhaps even in the history of the galaxy)—he gestured her upward.

"You're joking."

"Come up here," he insisted.

"I'll _break_ my neck if I do that."

"I'll save you."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't need anyone to save me."

He gave her a small smile. "I know. But if you did—I would. Please, Mara?"

It was looking up at those blasted blue eyes of his that did her in. "All right," she grumbled, moving toward the tree. "But if anything happens to me, it's on your head."

He reached a hand down to help her up, but she ignored it. As she climbed into the tree, he then started moving up higher.

"What are you doing?"

"Come on," he instructed, continuing his climb like a Kowakian monkey-lizard.

Reluctantly, she ascended the tree after him, glad when he stopped on a thick limb right before the branches started becoming perilously thin. "You looking for danger, Luke?"

He sat down on the branch and gestured for her to move up one limb and sit beside him. After briefly hesitating, she did what he wished.

"There. I'm here. Are you happy?"

He smiled. "I am."

"Good," she muttered.

Luke stared at her intently for a few moments before moving his gaze to the horizon. "You're just in time to see the sunset," he whispered.

She directed her eyes to the setting sun, a look of wonder coming on her face as she took it in. The sky was splashed with color, creating an effect that was far more impressive than she had ever thought possible on this Sith-forsaken planet. "It's beautiful."

"I know," he murmured. He shifted on the branch a little, scooting closer to her. Watching him with her peripheral vision, she saw as he moved to put his arm around her. She tensed at his touch at first, thoughts of Solo's invasiveness swirling in her mind, but she slowly allowed herself to relax and accept the gesture. When he let out a sigh of contentment, she couldn't help but smile.

Nestled together on the thick branch, they watched the sun sink deeper and deeper. When at last the final curve of the sun was no longer visible, Mara turned her head to look at Luke. She nearly recoiled in surprise—though she was able to prevent the reflexive movement from occurring—when she saw that he had fallen asleep with his head on her shoulder. Why hadn't she noticed _that_?

But as she stared at him, her surprise turned to amusement, and she thought wryly to herself, _Shouldn't this be the other way around?_

Still, she had to hand it to him—he really had done a fine job of getting back into her good graces. Even if Solo usually wasn't the best source for advice in such matters.

She resisted the urge to brush the hair back from his face and instead let herself put her nose a mere half inch from the top of his head. She inhaled, closing her eyes. He didn't smell like cologne, but she didn't want him to. He smelled like _Luke_...And for some reason, that comforted her.

She turned her gaze back to the sky. But this time, it was to look at the stars.


	27. Bonding

When Han strutted into her office in the morning with a giant smile on his face, Leia immediately asked him, "What did you do?"

Han gave her his signature lopsided grin. "I gave the kid a few pointers in the romance department, and he tells me it paid off. The redhead's no longer mad at him."

Leia raised an eyebrow. "With you helping him, I would have thought him doomed to fail. You probably should have just sent him to me."

An expression of mock hurt came over the smuggler's face. "Last I checked, I haven't done too terribly in being romantic." He strode over to her and took her in his arms, dipping her backward slightly.

Staring up into his eyes, Leia felt her breath catch in her throat. The warmth she could see there was unmistakable. "I love you so much, Han."

"I know," he murmured, his face hovering over hers. "I love you, too, Leia."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," she whispered.

"Good—because that's what I'm counting on."

And then his face moved those last few inches, and he captured her lips with his own, dipping her down even deeper. He really was a romantic.

* * *

When Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Artoo finally landed on Yavin IV, it was in the middle of the Rebels' sleep cycle.

"I suppose we aren't exactly going to be running to anyone with our news, are we?" Anakin remarked as he looked at the hangar bay's low level of lighting.

"I suppose not," Obi-Wan agreed. "Our news can wait till the morning anyway. The Alliance is not going to be attacking Coruscant tomorrow."

"I suppose you are right."

Anakin commenced with powering down the ship, and soon the shuttle door opened and the ramp extended. A few seconds later, Threepio and a very sleepy-looking Han Solo were coming inside.

"Solo, Threepio," Anakin nodded in greeting as he and Obi-Wan stood. "I didn't expect to see you this late."

"Yeah, well, Goldenrod here woke me up." Solo jerked his head over his shoulder at the protocol droid, who was moving toward Artoo.

"Why, Artoo," Threepio said, "you seem to be a little shaken up. You haven't been getting into more trouble now, have you?"

The astromech bleeped something that sounded sarcastic.

"Well, there's no need to be so rude, you metallic junk heap."

To Anakin and Obi-Wan, Solo said in a conspiratorial voice, "The Professor's really missed the Squirt over there."

Artoo beeped something that sounded indignant. He obviously didn't appreciate such a reference to his small stature.

Ignoring the droid, Solo continued, "He's been monitoring the traffic, awaiting your return."

"That explains why the droid is here," Obi-Wan commented, "but it does not explain your own presence."

Solo shifted his feet, averting his eyes away from the two humans to stare at the pair of droids. "Yeah, well, I was kinda hoping to talk to Vader alone."

Obi-Wan gave him an enigmatic smile. "I will go for a walk in the jungle, then." After inclining his head in farewell, he went down the ramp. Threepio and Artoo followed him, bickering all the way.

When the last noises of the droids had faded away, Anakin sat back down in the pilot's chair and motioned for Solo to take a seat near him. But the smuggler shook his head and remained standing, looking agitated.

After waiting perhaps a minute for the other man to speak, Anakin pressed, "Well?"

"Look, I know you and she don't really see eye-to-eye, but...Well, Bail's dead. You and Luke are all the family she's got."

Hiding a smile behind a hand, Anakin said, "I presume you are talking about my daughter?"

"Yes. Leia." The smuggler was pacing by now. "But even if you were once mortal enemies, I feel like it's important to ask you. I mean, I would be a fool if I actually _wanted_ Darth Vader mad at me."

Anakin was about to say something that would have effectively stopped this rambling, but the other man kept going.

"I mean, yeah, asking might be sort of old-fashioned, and she'd probably kill me if she knew I was here, but even if asking for a blessing from, well, _you_ is not the smartest thing in the galaxy to go about doing, I—"

"Solo!" Anakin barked.

The man cut off. Swallowing, he said, "Yeah?"

"You have my blessing, even if it is not really my place to give it." He moved his eyes to stare out the viewport and said quietly, "I know that you make Leia happy, and that is all I want for her."

Solo gave him a puzzled and almost searching look, as if he had never really seen Anakin before. "Yeah, well, that's what I want, too."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Solo nodded. "So, uh, yeah. I guess that's it, then." He moved toward the shuttle door a little unsurely, but he paused when Anakin called out to him.

"Solo...Would you let her know that the Noghri wish to join the Rebellion."

"The Noghri?" Solo echoed. "Are they the ones you said were trained in stealth?"

"Yes. They would be great allies in the Battle for Coruscant. I expect them to arrive fairly soon."

"I'll tell her." He started to leave, but again he stopped upon hearing the older man's voice.

"The Wookiees should probably be here soon as well."

Turning, Solo informed him, "They've already sent in some representatives. Kashyyyk is joining the Alliance, and some Wookiees are going to join the upcoming battle."

"Good."

The smuggler looked at him for a minute, considering whether or not to say something. Finally, he did. "The Wookiees seemed pretty impressed with you."

A shadow passed over Anakin's face, and he looked down at his hands. The gray gloves on them hid the mechanical parts beneath. The gloves themselves were crusted with dirt. It seemed like no matter what he did to remove the filth on them, they were always dirty. Perhaps they always would be.

His eyes closed, Anakin whispered, "They shouldn't be."

"Don't sell yourself too short," commented Solo. "Several months ago, I would have never dreamed of having this conversation with you. That's an improvement, right?"

The corners of Anakin's mouth lifted a little at that, and he watched as the smuggler left the ship.

Sometimes he thought it would have been so much easier if he had just died a converted man...But life wasn't about what was easy. And the rest of his life would be spent trying to make things right. Even if they could never be truly right again.

* * *

Leia was in her dressing gown sipping a cup of a caf and staring into her closet when Winter entered her quarters.

She waved her pinky finger by way of greeting and continued gazing forward at the line of outfits in front of her. A few seconds later, she asked with a yawn, "What is the agenda for the day?"

"You're not too busy today," Winter said with a smile. "The morning is clear, and it seems as if it will shape up to be a fine day."

"Good," Leia murmured absently.

"I passed your brother in the hallway on my way here. I think he wants to see you after you've dressed."

"All right." Leia set her mug down on a small nearby table and returned to decide on what to wear, but Winter was already pulling out an ivory dress.

"I think this one will do nicely for a day such as today," the pale-haired woman commented.

Leia shook her head at the choice but nonetheless took the item of clothing from Winter's hands. It was one of the best dresses she had. An Alderaanian tailor had handmade it for her after she had recommended his daughter—who was a sculptor—to people who were involved in maintaining the beauty of Alderaanian parks and cities. It was intricately embroidered, though not overdone, and the fabric was light and soft.

Winter helped Leia get into the dress—she had gained a few pounds since her measurements for the dress had been taken a few years before—and then guided Leia to sit down in a chair by the bed. She then promptly began to pin Leia's hair up in an elaborate yet elegant fashion.

Leia was amused, but this wasn't the first time Winter had played dress-up with her. Leia was usually pretty skilled at fixing her own hair, but it was always nice to have someone else do it for a change, and Winter occasionally took on that role—both with and without being asked.

After finishing, Winter asked, "What do you think?"

Leia looked in the mirror and smiled. "It's beautiful, Winter, as always."

Winter conjured up a few small white flowers from somewhere and slipped them into Leia's hair. "And that's the final touch." She sounded pleased. "Now, I have a few things to do, but I will catch up with you after you talk with your brother. When I see you, then we can talk about your schedule."

"Thanks, Winter," Leia said gratefully. She watched as her adopted sister left and then, smiling to herself, shuffled around the room and made a few last preparations for her day.

Finally, she was walking out the door. After making just one turn in the corridor, she nearly ran into her brother, who seemed a bit jumpy. "Luke!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Uh, hi," he returned warmly but shyly. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she answered with a frown. "Why do you ask?"

"Umm, you look really nice."

Leia shook her head with a smile. "Thank you, Luke. You look nice, too."

He was dressed in a black dress tunic that she hadn't seen him wear before. She wondered who had been updating his wardrobe, as she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him handle any money. Of course, perhaps he was learning about it.

Shyly, he asked her, "Will you come with me on a walk?"

"Of course, Luke. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

He looked at her with a frown and then gazed down at her arm. He held out his arm awkwardly. "Can I—hook my arm in yours?"

Amused, Leia agreed, and she linked arms with her brother. His obvious feelings of discomfort just made the gesture seem that much sweeter. He was cute when he tried so hard to follow human customs. Sometimes he reminded her a bit of a little kid.

As they walked through the Massassi Temple, he asked her, "Do you like what you're doing?"

"I do...While I don't like the circumstances in which I received a position in the Triad, I enjoy the work very much. I feel as if it is just where I am meant to be."

"Doesn't it get hard sometimes? Is it difficult to find time for yourself?"

"Yes, it is," she admitted. "But Han's been good about making sure I make some time just for me—well, for _us_. The position should get less busy when the initial rush of new members calms down, but it will always be time-consuming...And I think Han knows that. That's part of what I love about him—he understands me in a way no one else does...And he helps save me from myself."

They were soon walking outside. Leia had not really explored the area around the base, but she knew he was taking her down a different path than the one she and Han always took to their jungle hideaway. A part of her wanted to tell her brother that they shouldn't go too far from the base, that she had a lot of responsibilities waiting for her back inside the Temple, but she closed her mouth and just let herself enjoy the stroll with her brother. They never got to spend much time together alone.

"He really is your mate for life, then?" Luke asked at last.

"Yes, he is."

"How do you know? Even if you love someone with all of your heart, how do you know that you are meant to be with that one person forever?"

She smiled, a distant look coming over her face as she thought of her fiancé. "You just know. When the two of you are better together than you are apart—when a part of you will die with the death of that person—that's when you know."

"But what if you fight a lot? Is that not a sign against it being real, being forever?"

Leia smiled, knowing that Luke wasn't quite talking about her and Han. "If you're meant to be together, then you know that every fight will end with forgiveness. You just have to have faith that the other person will come around eventually, too."

"I'm glad you love Han, Leia," Luke said with a quiet sincerity.

"I'm glad, too."

They broke through some brush, and he took her around a giant shrub, and then standing there before them was her and Han's oasis. The sparkling body of water, the waterfall, the colorful plants...Though they had taken a different route, it was unmistakable.

But it wasn't the oasis which caught her eye. It was the people at the oasis.

Several people—and even a few droids—who she knew well were standing and watching for her, as was a man she didn't know who was wearing ceremonial robes...But the person whose eyes immediately caught hers was the scoundrel that was her fiancé. She felt her heart swell with love for him as he gave her a mischievous-looking grin. He had even gone so far as to dress up for this special occasion. Scoundrel, indeed. She hadn't known he could clean up so well.

But though a part of her wanted to move immediately to Han, she found her eyes drawn to something—or more precisely, someone—else.

There, standing to the side of everyone, was Vader...

She gazed at him, waiting for the familiar anger to flare up and consume her. But it didn't. Instead, what she saw now when she looked at him was not Darth Vader, a monster who had destroyed countless lives and worlds, but Anakin Skywalker, a man who looked fearful, uncomfortable, out of place, and maybe even a little abashed. Perhaps it was true that he would never be able to completely atone for all the terrible things he had done. But he was trying, and somehow she knew he would keep trying for the rest of his life.

_Even if the past can never be erased, must it always dominate the present?_ she couldn't help but wonder. The thought echoed in her head, and she paused in mid-step, removing her arm from its place around Luke's.

In a low voice, looking a little confused, Luke said, "I'm supposed to give you away. I don't know completely what that means, but..."

Leia gave him a smile and touched his arm gently. In a voice that wasn't loud but which nonetheless carried, she said, "Thank you, Luke. But I would like for my father to give me away."

The man's head lifted, and his startled blue eyes met her calm brown ones. "Leia?" he whispered in a hoarse voice, as if he were unsure he had heard her correctly.

She moved toward her father and held out her arm, which he took in his. He walked her over to stand by Han and the officiator, and the wedding ceremony began.

When it was time for Anakin to give her away, he gently kissed the top of her head and stepped away with tears in his eyes. She gave him a slight nod at his gratitude-filled look, and then she turned her gaze to Han. For the rest of that day, she only had eyes for him. And his status was no longer that of a fiancé.

Finally, he was her husband.


	28. Preparing

Luke was sitting outside the Yavin IV base on a fallen tree when his father approached him. Life was pulsating around him, countless insects, mammals, and reptiles all joining in together to create a sense of harmony in the Force. But despite the beauty of it all, Luke was paying it no heed.

But then the feeling of his father's presence intruded on his thoughts, and he raised his head, questions in his eyes.

The older man smiled. "Is something on your mind, son?"

Luke considered what his father said and then gave a single nod. "I am thinking about human weddings. They are…very different from Ghorfa bonding ceremonies."

Tilting his head and looking genuinely curious, Anakin asked, "And how is that?"

"There are just so many feelings involved in human weddings…Tuskens do not choose their mates—they are simply paired together without any choice involved. During the binding ceremony, their blood is mixed together with those of their bantha mounts. There is something powerful about it…Yet human weddings seem to hold a different kind of power. There is love and happiness and even regret—things you will not find at a Ghorfa ceremony…With the Ghorfa, you will find pride, reverence, inevitability, willingness…and destiny. With humans, it is more about choice—though there is still a sense of Fate playing a part." He tilted his head. "They're just so different."

Luke's father clapped a hand on his back. "You wouldn't be considering weddings so deeply because you're thinking about one of your own, are you?"

Luke looked at him, startled. "W-what?" he stuttered. But he didn't deny it. Right now, he felt as if having a wedding of his own would bring him to the height of happiness. There was just something so wonderful about the thought of joining with the woman he wanted to be his mate.

Anakin smiled knowingly. "I may have my doubts about Jade, but if she has your approval, then that's good enough for me…I don't suppose you would like to hear a few marriage proposal pointers from your father?"

Luke colored. "I—I already told her I wanted to marry her."

His father raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?" He paused and studied his son for a handful of seconds. "I suppose it didn't go well?"

Luke looked down at his hands. "No."

Chuckling, Anakin told him, "That's because you're not supposed to _tell_ a woman _you_ want to marry _her_—you're supposed to _ask her_ to marry _you_."

"I don't think it would have made a difference," the young man said glumly. "She doesn't _want_ to marry me."

"Your mother didn't want to marry me either at first," Anakin noted, clasping a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "You just have to be persistent…And creating a few romantic situations certainly don't hurt."

"Han's already told me a few things…Mara and I _did_ watch the sun together, and she forgave me for…well—for whatever I did." Luke moved a foot across the ground and stared down at it.

"That's a great start then," his father proclaimed warmly. But then he added, "Even if Solo might not be my first choice for romantic advice."

Luke glanced at his father. "He married my sister. He must know _something_."

"I guess you're right about that," Anakin acknowledged with a chuckle. Then he made a vague gesture. "I see you have a lightsaber now."

Luke looked down at the lightsaber handle hanging from his belt. He unclipped it and handed it to his father, who surveyed it carefully. "I made it on Dagobah. There's a krayt dragon pearl inside it."

Anakin turned the saber on, twisting it skillfully and admiring the blade. "It handles very well, Luke. I can sense you will be a great Jedi."

Luke gave him a half smile. "I wish I were as confident as you."

"You'll get better with time, son...Trust me—you _are_ the son of the Chosen One, after all."

"The Chosen One?" Luke echoed in confusion.

Anakin's face fell. "Ask me again sometime…Just know that you are destined for great things, Luke. And I know you will do far better than I ever did."

* * *

The day of the great battle for Coruscant approached quickly. The occurrence and intensity of attacks on planets whose main inhabitants weren't human increased, and several new non-human species flocked to the Rebellion, some in fear and some in anger. Though the rise in the Rebellion's numbers was beneficial, every day that went by was a day in which more innocent people died. After the mission briefing was held, the sense of anticipation on the jungle moon seemed to rise. Everyone was ready for the Battle for Coruscant.

The night before the attack, Leia told Han in a tone that spoke volumes for her depressed state, "So many innocent beings are dying right now…"

Her husband shifted under the covers of their bed and brought her closer to him. "That's why we've gotta do this."

Burying her face in his chest, she whispered, "I know. I just wish you didn't have to go to Coruscant."

He placed a hand under her chin and lifted her head up. She could see the barest outline of his face due to the light of the chrono by their bedside.

As if knowing that she needed to see more—or needing to see more himself—Han stretched out and turned on a light. His expression was filled with determination…and adoration for his wife. "I _will_ be coming back, Your Worship. We're going to hit the Empire so hard that no Imperial will dare set foot on Coruscant for a few millennia."

Leia gave him a weak smile and traced patternless outlines on his chest. "But what if it doesn't work? What if we've spent all this work gathering allies only to have them all—"

"Hey, Princess," Han interrupted in a quiet voice. "With Lando and me on your team, you can't lose…And your father and brother aren't exactly useless when it comes to a fight." He frowned. "Speaking of your father—I noticed you seem to be on better terms with him now."

She inclined her head, her cheeks flushing. "I've been holding on to all my anger…But everyone makes mistakes. His mistakes might have come at the cost of countless lives—but I finally realized that he is paying for it every second of every day. And he will always be paying for it. There is no need for me to add to his pain—there is already enough of that in the galaxy."

He gave her a gentle squeeze. "I'm proud of you. Not everybody can forgive Darth Vader."

"I guess forgiveness is part of the Jedi way," she returned with the slightest of smiles. "And while I may never be a true Jedi—not like Luke—it's just as important for me to follow the Light."

"Uh huh," Han mumbled.

She just smiled. She knew all this Force "mumbo-jumbo" made him uncomfortable. But she didn't need him to understand…just to accept.

Giving him a squeeze of her own, she told him, "Thank you for everything, Han…I wish I could be with you tomorrow. The flagship will be transmitting data on the battle to Alliance Headquarters, so I'll know what's going on, but still...It's not the same as being there…"

With a lopsided grin, Han told her, "Your place isn't on the frontlines, sweetheart…And to be honest, I'm glad you won't be there."

"Are you admitting that you worry about me, you pirate?" Leia teased.

He wiggled his eyebrows. "I'd like to do a lot more than that."

As he descended onto her mouth with a faux roar, she let out a very unprincesslike squeak.

* * *

"Are you going with us?"

Mara turned and looked at Luke. It was nighttime on Yavin IV, but she had come outside to think. She hadn't expected anyone to come to her. She should have known better. He'd been seeking her out more and more frequently of late, and he never had any problems finding her. While part of her was annoyed with the way he could hone in on her presence, another part of her was thankful. Without him, everything felt so…lonely.

"Going with you?" she queried, as if she didn't know what he meant. In truth, she _did_ know what he was asking and didn't need any clarification. She just wanted a few more seconds to think.

"To Coruscant," he specified, fidgeting. "I wasn't sure if you were going to since—" he hesitated and then continued, "—the Emperor will be there."

She brought the lightsaber hilt at her side up to stare at it. For so many years, she had done things only for Palpatine—never for herself. But her saber…_that_ was something she had built for herself. She had started to escape the ruler's hold over her—had begun to form the pieces of herself into a picture she hadn't been aware existed. What if she went back to him…and everything she had done turned out to be for nothing? Would she be able to resist the Emperor's call to her? Could she truly fight against the man that had been such an important part of her life?

"Mara?" his quiet voice came to her.

She raised her eyes to gaze at him. He seemed so concerned, so worried, so caring, so…loving. She'd always been taught that showing any emotions but anger was a sign of weakness, but with him it was different. With him…she felt she could be herself. And so she let herself whisper, "I'm so scared."

He took a few hesitant steps toward her and then pulled her into his arms. Tears sprang to her eyes as she allowed herself to relax into his embrace. For once—just this once—she would allow herself to be weak, to take solace in his arms. It was so hard to be strong and distant all the time, and he was slowly pushing past her defenses. Soon, she would be completely exposed to him. The thought should scare her…but for some reason, it didn't.

"It's okay, Mara," he whispered against her hair. "I'll protect you."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Luke—"

"I _will_," he said with a startling sharpness. "I'd give my life for you." He brought his hands back and curled his fingers around her arms, shifting so that he could look directly at her. "I promise I'll prevent anything from happening to you. I won't let the Emperor hurt you again."

Not long before, she would have recoiled from his overprotectiveness, viewing it as an unwanted intrusion into her life. Now, however, it brought a warm feeling to the pit of her stomach. She'd never had anyone that cared enough to give his life for her. And she knew what he said was true—somehow, she knew he would leap through fire if she asked it of him.

"I need to go with you," she said softly. Though she dreaded the upcoming confrontation, she knew she had to be there. She had to confront the Emperor—and that part of her past—one last time. "Luke?"

"Yes, Mara?" he murmured, looking at her with those crystal-clear blue eyes, his love for her shining through them.

"Could you just…hold me?" She looked down to the ground at her side, avoiding his gaze.

"Anytime, Mara," he told her, crushing her against him once again.

As they stood there, she inhaled his comforting scent. It was a mix of sweat and wilderness and just plain Luke. She didn't ever want to leave here, to leave this moment…

She didn't want to because…when she finally saw the Emperor, she wasn't certain what she was going to do.

* * *

When at last it was time to leave for Coruscant, a small group gathered to say goodbye.

Threepio and Opakwa were to stay with Leia, assisting with translations as needed. There was something strangely bittersweet about this farewell to everyone, but it appeared Leia was feeling it the most.

Anakin watched as his daughter was hugged by Solo. "We'll be back before you know it, Your Highness," he told her with that cocky grin on his face. But Anakin could sense even he was sad about having to leave. There was something frightening about the battle ahead—as if they wouldn't all make it.

"Don't worry about him," Lando Calrissian told Leia, "nobody can keep this ol' pirate down."

The corners of her mouth quirked upward. "I guess you're right."

"Of course he is," Solo said assuredly. "We'll all be back before you know it." He gave Calrissian a hard look. "You're going to be careful, aren't you?"

Calrissian showed bright white teeth. "You're not worried about whether I'll survive—you're just wondering whether I'll try to bring the _Falcon_ back in one piece." While Solo was going to Coruscant with ground troops and his Wookiee friend, Calrissian would be taking the _Falcon_ to the space battle. Anakin would be going with Obi-Wan, Luke, and Jade on a shuttle.

"Well, I might have wondered that a time or two," Solo admitted.

Chewbacca made an amused-sounding noise.

Anakin smiled to himself. Solo was really protective over the piece of junk that he called a starship. Anakin himself was itching to make some improvements of his own to the ship, but he had been refraining from suggesting it. He doubted his son-in-law would welcome his meddling.

Obi-Wan stepped forward. "May the Force be with you, Leia," he said softly.

"And with you, Obi-Wan," she returned. Anakin felt she was the one who probably had it the most difficult out of them all. Whereas her other friends and family members would be in the thick of the action, she would be helping coordinate the battle from afar with Mon Mothma. Alliance Headquarters would be in constant contact with Bel Iblis, but Leia would probably be feeling next to useless.

Anakin took a few steps toward his daughter. "Everything will be fine somehow," he told her.

"Thank you…Father."

He gave her a small smile, wanting to embrace her, but feeling the gesture would be an intrusion. And then she surprised him. She hugged him.

"Protect my brother from the Emperor," she whispered to him. She obviously knew how it would go—how the Jedi intended to confront Palpatine. It was what they had to do.

"I will," he promised.

She turned to look at Luke, who was standing beside an uncomfortable Mara Jade. Then Leia gestured him over. As they embraced, she said, "I love you, brother."

"I love you, sister," the young man returned warmly as he pulled back. He gave a nod to Opakwa and then to Threepio. "You two stay out of trouble, all right?"

"Of course, Master Sun," Opakwa responded.

"You do not need to worry about us," Threepio seconded.

Luke smiled at them, and then he turned and walked back toward Jade.

Yoda looked at Leia with a solemn expression. "Your anger, you must watch, young one," he told her.

She slowly lowered her head. "I know, Master Yoda. I will be careful."

The small Jedi Master smiled at her and then became quiet.

After a few more goodbyes and well wishes, they were parting with Leia and the protocol droids. Artoo insisted on being part of the action despite Anakin's attempt to dissuade him, so their group had gone up in number one more than planned. But it would be fine. The little droid often proved himself helpful.

As Anakin and the others of the shuttle group entered the Imperial-made craft, he felt nervous about what was ahead. It would be easy to feel overconfident—numbers-wise, Anakin had more Force users on his side than Palpatine would.

But Anakin didn't think that even having a hundred more Force users would make him feel any better.


	29. Fighting

As had been decided by the Triad, while a few Alliance spacecraft faked an attack on an Imperial shipyard, the bulk of the Alliance's fleet gathered at a rendezvous point in a system near the Coruscant system. Then, when the time came, the Alliance ships made a jump into hyperspace. After finally coming out of hyperspace in front of Coruscant, they found a sizeable Imperial fleet waiting for them.

_They were ready for us,_ Wedge thought to himself with a sense of dread. _Our diversion was pointless. _But he supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise—there were far too many people involved in this offensive not to expect there would be at least one spy in their midst.

But there wasn't much time left for thinking. Garm Bel Iblis began spewing attack orders, and Wedge took in a deep breath, steeling himself.

"You ready, fighter squads?" came General Lando Calrissian's voice over the comm. He had been given direct control over the Alliance's fighter pilot squadrons, though he could of course be overruled by the needs of higher-ranking men such as Bel Iblis. "Darklighter Squadron and Silver Squadron, flank me. We're going for some of the big boys. The rest of you, run interference for our capital ships till I tell you otherwise."

"Did you hear that, Darklighter Squadron?" Wedge said with a tight smile on his face. "Let's help the man."

The fighting began in earnest, swelling more in intensity as each minute passed by.

Though Wedge absolutely hated it, men had already begun to die.

* * *

Anakin inhaled deeply as he guided the Imperial shuttle—which wasn't meant for maneuvers like the ones he was putting it through—toward Coruscant. It was just like in his vision.

Laser bolts flashed through space above the giant city-planet. The battle for Coruscant was underway.

Already, conflagrations were spreading on capital ships, and ripples in the Force had begun to indicate the slowly rising death toll. There would be no holds barred at this fight.

Anakin felt the despair that had come over him during his vision rise up again. How could the struggling Rebellion defeat the Imperial fleet? The Empire had concentrated everything into its Imperial strength—Anakin's own defection had meant nothing in the greater scheme. The Emperor had the galaxy's greatest military minds working under him. How could the might of his Empire be overcome by such a ragtag group?

But even as he thought about the hopelessness of the space battle, he found his attention drawn to the city-planet. It was there that the biggest source of darkness could be found. It was there that a black hole in the Force called to him. It was there that Palpatine—and the Dark Side—awaited him.

He stared down at the planet as he moved the ship closer to it. He had to dive into that black hole to save the galaxy. He had to face it and allow himself to be swallowed—but he needed to maintain a grip on himself…needed to make sure he would return. Though he would be surrounded by darkness, he couldn't let himself become darkness again. If he fell once more, it would be impossible to return to the Light.

He glanced beside him at his son, who was staring anxiously out the viewport at Coruscant. Anakin swallowed. He had to be strong for his son. He _had_ to.

* * *

"All right! Let's move!" Han yelled, waving a hand forward. He and his ground troops surged forward toward the Imperial Palace. There, Stormtroopers were awaiting their arrival, lined up like white statues, ready to face their opponents and die in the effort. It was night outside in Imperial City, but there was no missing that white armor.

"Find cover where you can!" the Corellian general shouted to his men over the roar of blaster bolts. One man glanced at him, as if to say no one actually needed the reminder.

He threw a grim look at Chewbacca, who had his bowcaster raised and was methodically picking off Imperials. There were so many of them that they were hard to miss. Their perfect lines were now starting to break, and they had begun looking a little more like giant white-carapaced insects than military men.

Shooting his blaster with wild abandon, Han took in a deep breath. "Ready the detonators!" he commanded. He hated this tactic—it felt like they were fighting dirty—but all the stealth in the galaxy wasn't going to help the Noghri if they couldn't get into the Palace. He had great ground troops at his disposal—the Wookiees looking the fiercest of all—but they really needed to get through the front door. Inside, they would need to be more careful about causing explosions, lest they bring down parts of the building. For now, however, it was the best strategy they had.

* * *

Anakin guided the shuttle toward the four Jedi Temple spires, his heart heavy. The Force was almost screaming Palpatine's presence to him. He was in one of the ruins of the Temple. Specifically, the Emperor was in the southeast tower. The High Council Tower.

Just thinking about where Palpatine had chosen to place himself made Anakin miserable. The southeast tower was the spire which had once housed the Jedi High Council. As a result, it had served as the location of some painful memories for Anakin.

So much had happened in the High Council Chamber. In that room, the Jedi had refused to train him. Then, when he _had_ been trained and was placed on the Council by Palpatine, the Jedi Council members had refused to make him a Master. And finally, when he had felt the entire galaxy crumbling around him as the Dark Side clenched him in its talons, he had slaughtered helpless younglings.

As he set the shuttle down on the remains of a landing platform, he glanced backward at Obi-Wan and Yoda. Their facial expressions were serious and sad. They must have been remembering their fallen comrades. Did they remember, too, the beacon he had modified so many years ago to call Jedi to their doom—the beacon he had meant for Jedi to follow in the belief that it would lead them to a safe haven…only for them to discover death at the hands of the 501st Legion?

He and Palpatine had tainted the place, had spilled innocent blood and spread darkness throughout the tower. And now, Palpatine wished to bring them back to this wretched site—wished to remind Anakin of what he had done, of the lives he had ruined.

But Anakin was here to make sure Palpatine didn't destroy any more lives. He would help defeat the Emperor, even if he had to die to do it.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to look at Obi-Wan.

"Are you ready?" the older man asked softly.

"Yes," Anakin said. "Let's go."

* * *

Leia and Mon Mothma sat in the War Room, anxiously listening to communications from the Alliance fleet above Coruscant.

Every now and then, they would receive an encrypted message giving them a few more details from Garm Bel Iblis or one of the men on his ship. But though the two female members of the Triad could offer strategically significant suggestions if they so desired, their strengths were political, not military. Their powers would be needed most _after_ the fight—not during it.

"Ah, Sithspit. We just lost Wilt," a voice said grimly over the communications unit. Leia thought it belonged to her brother's friend Wedge. "Mixus, go help Sonatta! She's under some heavy fire."

Leia clenched her fists. She felt so helpless. She wished she could have gone to the battle herself. But there was always a chance they would have to evacuate Yavin IV—and if so, Leia and Mon Mothma would be desperately needed.

So she just continued to listen to pilots' chatter, her heart heavy.

* * *

Bel Iblis stared out the viewport on the bridge of his flagship. The Star Destroyer that Intel believed belonged to Thrawn was shooting at Alliance ships. Thrawn's messenger Pellaeon—if the man had indeed come from Thrawn—had said the alien commander would turn on the Empire when the time was right. Was Thrawn truly just biding his time? Or had it all been a lie?

In hopes that Thrawn really _did_ intend to defect, Bel Iblis was keeping ships away from Thrawn's Star Destroyer in as inconspicuous a way as possible. With the capital ship actively firing, it was a somewhat difficult task, but Bel Iblis did what he could.

He couldn't help but wonder—what if he had been taken in by a lie? Would the Alliance fall because of his stupidity and gullibility?

He took in a deep breath. He would do anything he could to stop that from happening.

* * *

Anakin led the way to the High Council Chamber. Any of his companions could have done it just as easily—even Artoo knew the way—but he was the one who had brought this mess upon the galaxy. As a result, he should be the leader of the effort to clean it up.

When Anakin walked into the chamber, his chest tight with regret and anticipation, he noticed immediately the monitors and communications equipment scattered throughout the room. Though it was night and the large windows afforded little but the general glow of Coruscant, there were tiny blinking lights on consoles everywhere. What had once been a place of peace and knowledge had been turned into a dark war room.

In the middle of it all, seated in a chair that was the duplicate of the one Grand Master Yoda had once sat in, was Palpatine. His eyes were scanning the various devices in front of him and his voice was directing ships involved in the battle happening above the planet. He seemed utterly unconcerned that his greatest enemies had just entered the room.

After a few seconds of silence during which Anakin fought desperately with his anger, Palpatine gave a sinister grin and flicked a switch on one of the consoles. "Grand Admiral Thrawn, I relinquish command of Imperial forces to you temporarily. My special visitors have arrived."

"Understood, Your Highness," came the cool reply.

Palpatine gave the newcomers his full attention. "So, you have seen fit to visit me at last," he sneered. "How do you like my command center?" He gestured at the room. "I have made some…improvements since the last time you were here. Master Yoda, I must admit, I had thought you would be dead by now."

"Have you no respect?" Anakin said in a low voice as he took a few steps forward.

Palpatine's expression was venomous. "I might say the same for you, Vader—"

"Anakin!"

"_Vader_," repeated Palpatine, his glowing eyes glinting. He shifted his gaze to someone behind Anakin. "Mara Jade, I see you have brought my enemies to me at last." His eyelids drooped a little as he concentrated. Anakin could feel him touching Jade's Force sense. "But, Mara, I see you have done the unexpected…Could you truly have fallen in love with one of the men you must kill?"

Anakin turned to stare at Jade. She was fighting to keep her face blank, but her chin was trembling, and Anakin got the sense that she was about to fall apart. Palpatine had long before created a bond between himself and the young woman which was hard to break. Anakin did not know what would happen if that bond was strengthened once more—where would Luke be then?

"Come—stand by my side again, Mara Jade," Palpatine said. His voice was deceptively soothing, a poisoned honey that lured the insect in only to encase it in destruction. "It is where you belong."

"Monster!" Anakin growled suddenly, charging forward with Qui-Gon's saber lit.

He saw the despot lift and hand and wave it, and then he crashed into the wall, and darkness enveloped him.

* * *

Grand Admiral Thrawn stared out the viewport of the Star Destroyer, watching as the casualties slowly mounted, as the fiery beams flashed from one ship to another. The struggle was nowhere near over.

"Are our men in position?" he asked quietly.

Pellaeon, though he had seen many space battles before, was nervous. This was it. This was the big one. Everything was riding on what happened at this fight. "They are," he confirmed. His voice, he was proud to note, bore no trace of the anxiety he felt. He watched and waited for his commanding officer to speak again.

* * *

Luke made an angry Tusken hand motion as he watched his father slump to the floor. That wasn't supposed to _happen_.

He shook his head, which was being afflicted by a mounting buzzing, and then he lit his saber and ran toward Palpatine, though he was more conscious of his surroundings than his father had been. Alongside him was Artoo, the little droid shooting forward with an arc welder at the ready.

Suddenly, a figure jumped in front of Luke and blocked his blow with two sabers. Palpatine's villainous face was bathed in a blue glow from the light of the weapons, and Luke glared at his new opponent. The Skinwalker.

An abrupt noise tore Luke's attention away from the Skinwalker. Palpatine had pulled out a red lightsaber and plunged it into the center of the astromech droid.

"_No_!" Luke bit out, furious. But the Skinwalker was pressing him away from the Emperor, and he was forced to fight.

Luke parried a blow and then slashed at his opponent, who flipped backward. The Skinwalker's hood fell down, but Luke couldn't see, as the man leapt up onto a console and then came crashing down with a kick.

Luke dodged the kick and the two sabers which flashed, and then his opponent paused briefly—just long enough for Luke to see his face.

It was his own.

* * *

The _Falcon_ rocked beneath a heavy blow. Cursing to himself, Lando reached forward and upped the power to the rear deflector shields.

On the communications unit, Wedge Antilles was expressing his own frustration. "Dark Four, get outta there!"

"I can handle this!" Dark Four said confidently. "Seven's covering me."

"I said get _out_ of there!" the leader of Darklighter Squadron spat.

"Shields—shields are failing," Dark Four said, all traces of bravado gone, only fear left behind in its wake.

"Seven, are you—"

The blip on the screen that was Dark Four disappeared.

"Blast it," Wedge Antilles growled.

Lando took in a deep breath. "Dark Leader, Silver Leader, get your squads ready for a strafing run on a Star Destroyer."

"We need some help here," Admiral Ackbar suddenly cut in, sounding less than tranquil.

And then it was Garm Bel Iblis's voice speaking. "Go for the Victory-Class Star Destroyer attacking the Mon Calamarian ships."

"Roger that," Lando confirmed. "Ready, men?"

"Ready," chimed in the two squadron leaders.

* * *

As Luke fought with the Skinwalker, Obi-Wan and Yoda talked to Palpatine.

Obi-Wan was frustrated with Anakin for having charged forward blindly like he had—it was like fighting Count Dooku on Geonosis all over again—but he buried his frustrations to concentrate on the Emperor.

"Surrender, you must," Yoda said solemnly. It was in vain, of course—they all knew that—but a Jedi could not simply attack. It was the Jedi's place to defend.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that," Palpatine told them, his expression dark yet almost gleeful. "You see, my Empire is far stronger than your Republic could have ever hoped to be."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You're wrong. Your reign of evil is over, Palpatine."

"No," said the tyrant, his eyes glowing in the dimness of the room. "I'm afraid you're wrong. My reign has only just begun!" And then, with a sudden blaze of red, he attacked.

* * *

"Give orders to the first group," Thrawn said calmly, his glittering red eyes staring out the viewport. "The time is now."

"Yes, Admiral," Pellaeon acknowledged. He took in a deep breath. This was it.

* * *

The Skinwalker—Luke's _clone_—jumped through the air again, flipping and landing beside the unconscious Anakin. He turned and lifted his sword, preparing to part the man's head from his body, but Luke growled and bore down on him, the buzzing in his head growing stronger.

The Skinwalker thrust away his desperate blow and forced Luke's lightsaber upward with one of his own blades. And then the second of his blades came hurtling upward and sliced off Luke's mechanical hand at the wrist.

Crying out, Luke brought the stub of his arm to his chest. His eyes—filled with fear and dread and perhaps even a desperate plea for help—flicked to Mara, who had been frozen in indecision the whole time. She stared back at him, but he was forced to look back at his opponent before he could try to understand what that look meant.

The Skinwalker had a dark half-smile on his face.

* * *

Han was proud of his men.

They fought valiantly, bravely. Wookiees, humans, and Noghri surged forward, surrounding the remaining Imperial forces outside the palace. The Wookiees—fierce, fearless, proud—roared at the Stormtroopers in indignation.

Han pressed forward, only to cry out as pain flared in his side. Holding his arm over his wound, he fell to his knees. A nearby Noghri killed the man who had shot him, and then the Noghri dropped down beside him to say in his ear: "General, are you all right?"

"I've been a lot better," Han grumbled, wincing as he tried to stand. Waving a hand dismissively, he said, "Go! Go!"

The Noghri looked at him—evaluating his condition, perhaps—and then nodded and left.

Chewbacca, however, suddenly noticed his friend and came to him. He growled and started to pick Han up.

"Chewie," Han protested, "no! Go fight! Forget about me! I'll just slow you down."

But the Wookiee put the man over his shoulder like a sack of vegetables and then lifted his bowcaster in the air and began shooting.

"I can walk, you know," Han grumbled.

The Wookiee just growled again.

* * *

Mara had watched the lightsaber battles raging before her with the greatest of trepidation. She knew it was time to decide once and for all. She had to choose between her old master and her new friends.

The answer should have been clear—she had come to hate her servitude to that monster—but he had instilled in her such fear and such a sense of duty that she felt paralyzed, as if making any sort of choice one way or the other would utterly destroy her.

But when that clone cut off Luke's hand—and Luke looked at her with those begging blue eyes—she knew her choice was made. She realized it had been made even before she walked into that room.

She ignited the lightsaber she had made on Dagobah, and she stepped forward, ready to attack the clone.

The clone, with a sinister grin on his face—Luke's face—which didn't look like it belonged there, met her blade with his two blue ones. He stared back at her with Luke's eyes—yet they weren't Luke's…Luke's eyes could never be filled with such coldness as that which filled this clone's. Knowing that, she didn't hesitate to attack him.

Slash, swipe, parry, thrust—forward, she moved. The clone danced backward and then suddenly pressed forward, his two blades a blur in front of her eyes as she was forced to retreat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Luke moving to retrieve his lightsaber. That heartened her, and she went on the offense once again.

* * *

Leia listened with a heavy heart as yet another casualty was reported over the communications unit. She gave Mon Mothma a helpless look. Had this been a pointless battle?

"Don't worry," the older woman said soothingly. "We haven't lost yet."

Leia nodded in acknowledgement, wishing she could absorb Mon Mothma's confidence. But more than that, Leia wished she could be in direct contact with Han. If only she knew exactly what was happening on the ground! If she had a way of knowing, she felt certain it would make her feel better.

* * *

They fought as one.

When one of the clone's lightsabers came flashing down, either Luke's or Mara's came up to meet it. When one of the clone's sabers thrust forward, either Mara or Luke brushed it aside.

It didn't matter that the clone had two weapons or that Luke had only one hand. Luke and Mara's Force bond brought the two together, melding their Force senses into a single mind. It was like two waves crashing against one another—the waves should have clashed, each decreasing the power of the other due to their opposing directions, yet that wasn't what happened. The two waves combined into a tsunami, creating a seemingly impenetrable wall of force and power.

They drew on each other's instincts, covering each other's weaknesses. His cool soothed her fire; her reflexes quickened his limbs. The clone, in contrast, was all chilling fury, unfocused yet undeterred. He swung his sabers and tried to push them back…but was instead pushed back. He was losing.

Beside Luke and Mara, another battle raged. It was hard to miss the red flash of Palpatine's saber against Yoda's and Obi-Wan's blades. Though seemingly old and decrepit, Palpatine was agile, drawing on the Force to make his body perform the impossible.

But Palpatine—for all his concentration on acrobatics—was more than aware of what was happening between Luke and Mara. And he taunted them: "So, Mara, you have bonded with Skywalker's whelp, have you? Is the power of the flesh enough to overcome your old ties?"

Mara's face tightened as she fought not to respond, yet there was a crack in her concentration. Her Force bond was slipping.

Obi-Wan spoke to Palpatine calmly for her: "Their bond is filled with Light and purity. You may not taint it, Palpatine—no matter how hard you try."

"Is that so?" sneered the Emperor. A flash of a mental command came from him, but Mara's danger sense reacted too slowly.

The clone kicked out as she was sweeping aside his blade, causing her to stumble. And then he Force-pushed her into one of the windows, bashing her head against the clear surface. Bright lights exploded in front of her eyes. She brought a hand up to her head, and it came away wet. She slowly dropped to her knees, too lightheaded to stand.

She could feel a blaze of anger from somewhere, but she was unable to concentrate on where it was coming from. Her head wound was throbbing. Was she going to die?


	30. Finishing

"Sith Saliva, Emperor's Cloak, and Black Holy Doomsday," Han swore as Chewie lowered him to the ground. He was starting to descend into creating his own curses. That was never a good sign.

Though his troops had been surrounding the Imperials—and hope had begun to shoot through Han—now they were _being_ surrounded by an entirely new wave of Imperials. There were too many of them. He had to surrender, or it would be an absolute slaughter of his forces.

"Krethin' great," he growled, raising his hands into the air and watching as his comrades did the same. Not even the Noghri—impressive as they were—would be able to get them out of this jam.

* * *

White-hot fire. Simmering lava. Raging tempest. Relentless tornado. Engulfing hurricane.

Luke was like a force of nature now, Mara's injury causing an unbridled fury to well up within him. The Skinwalker had _dared_ harm the one meant to be Luke's mate. Luke had promised he would protect her. He had failed. The Light had not helped him. And so, he grasped at the Darkness as he never truly had before, cloaking himself in its power.

Luke was like a tornado during a thunderstorm. His blade flashed against those of the clone like lightning, and he ripped out pieces of the Emperor's consoles from the floor, sending the parts flying at his opponent. The Skinwalker managed to push some aside and cut others into pieces, but still parts of it hit his body. Yet he also seemed to feed off Luke's anger, and the buzzing in Luke's head simply got worse even as his Dark-Side-supplemented strength increased.

Their assaults grew more brutal. Legs were thrown out in kicks meant to cripple; blades were slashed against skin and barely dodged in time to prevent major wounds; more debris began soaring around the room as if each piece had a mind of its own. Luke and his clone fought in a dazed fury. And through it all, they could hear the echo of Palpatine's laughter surrounding them.

* * *

Garm Bel Iblis stared grimly out into space as he listened to the updated report of how much damage his flagship had taken. One thing was clear. In insisting on being in the middle of the battle, he had sealed his own fate. His ship was going down.

"It's time for a full-scale evacuation," he said in a firm voice. "I want everyone but a skeleton crew out of here."

"Sir—" the deck officer beside him began to protest.

"Escape pods," Bel Iblis murmured, ignoring his words. "Send them out in escape pods."

"Yes, sir," the man acknowledged with obvious reluctance, moving away to perform his task.

Bel Iblis opened a private channel to Admiral Ackbar. "Admiral," he said in a firm tone, "I'm evacuating most of the men on my ship. Can you pick up the escape pods?"

"I will try to get some of the Mon Calamarian ships to pick them up," agreed Ackbar. "Are—"

"Thank you," Bel Iblis said, cutting him off. "You're in charge now." Then he cut the communication between them. The light soon flashed, indicating an incoming message, but he paid it no heed.

Seconds later, the deck officer was back by his side. The ship's alarms were sounding, and men were rushing to the escape pods. "Sir, what do you plan to do?"

Bel Iblis turned to him slightly, the smallest of smiles on his face. "A captain always goes down with his ship."

* * *

When Anakin began returning to consciousness, he was first aware of the hiss and hum of clashing lightsabers. He opened his eyes, and the first people he saw were Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Palpatine.

Obi-Wan and Yoda took their attacks carefully, and Anakin remembered with the ghost of a smile how he had once believed it impossible Yoda could be a decent duelist. But as he stared at them now, there was one thing he was certain of. Obi-Wan and Yoda weren't as young as they used to be.

Yoda was noticeably winded, and a sheen of sweat could be viewed on Obi-Wan's face. The battle was going downhill—Anakin could tell. Palpatine seemed to realize this as well, and his pleasure was like that of a saber cat trying to goad two rodents into a trap. But though the Sith Lord's opponents were far cleverer and more powerful than any rodents, Anakin was worried.

And then, as he stretched out with his Force sense, his level of worry increased exponentially.

Luke had turned into a whirlwind of Darkness.

The boy was pulling threads of the Dark Side to himself and wrapping himself in it like a cocoon, feeding off its energy to assist his movements. Anakin's jaw dropped—how had this happened to the normally serene boy?—and then he saw Jade, who was holding a head to her hand in pain and looking dazed. His answer was right there, wasn't it?

Wincing at the pain he was feeling himself—he wasn't as young as he once was either—Anakin scrambled for his lightsaber and got to his feet. He had promised Leia he would protect Luke, and he intended to keep that promise. He would not let his son make the mistakes he had made. Luke had to be protected from himself.

"Luke!" Anakin cried out. "Release the Darkness! Take hold of the Light!"

The boy glanced at him with cloudy eyes, his anger still ruling his actions. Anakin nearly cursed as he realized the boy's mechanical hand had been lopped off—he probably would have noticed moments before if his head weren't pounding—but he forced himself to concentrate on his son's mental state.

"You have to do it, Luke! Don't let yourself take the road of Darkness! Don't let yourself fall into the trap of power! The Dark Side is easier—but it is not stronger. You have to reach for the strength of the Light." Anakin nearly stuttered the last word as he realized just who Luke's opponent was. It was a clone of Luke himself.

Anakin swallowed, but he turned his attention back to his son.

Luke was taking in deep breaths, backing away from his clone's assaults. Anakin could feel him tentatively—almost with fear—trying to touch the Light. Relief enveloping him, Anakin reached out to his son, startled at the feeling of the escalating buzzing sensation in the boy's head. Luke couldn't fight like this.

"Step away, son," Anakin told him. "Please—step away. Leave it to me."

"I won't let you fight alone," Luke insisted hoarsely. "We have to win. We have to protect Mara."

Anakin's heart broke for the boy as he remembered his own desperation to save Padmé all those years ago. "I'll protect her, Luke. Don't worry."

Luke turned to him, almost missing the flash of his opponent's lightsabers. Though he blocked the two blades with his own, he stumbled, and a kick from his clone sent him flying to the floor with a wince and a hiss. Anakin saw the boy—who no longer had his saber—touch his side in pain, and Anakin suspected he had at least one cracked rib. That kick had been powerful.

Inhaling deeply, Anakin lifted his green saber and slowly stalked toward the clone.

Another piece of his vision fell into place.

The clone's two blue lightsabers were glowing in the darkness. The blades had once belonged to Anakin and Obi-Wan before they had been taken away, but their new master showed no signs of relinquishing. The Dark Side radiated from the clone, and his chilling blue eyes stared at Anakin, taunting him and beckoning. This monster had taken his son's hand and hurt him and had hurt his son's intended. The Dark Side called to Anakin. It tried to reach him. It swirled in the air, teasing him, surrounding him.

But he refused to grab hold of it. Instead, he reached for the Light.

* * *

Garm Bel Iblis looked at his skeleton crew solemnly. These men had volunteered to die with him—indeed, most of his crew would willingly follow him into death. He had been forced to make some of his men leave. It was his duty as commander to minimize losses—and his duty as a man to save as many lives as he could.

He stared out the viewport for a few precious seconds of time. He had to make a decision quickly. He wanted to ram his ship into the one he believed belonged to Thrawn. He did not know whether the Imperial ever truly intended to betray the Empire. If he had simply been playing Bel Iblis as a fool, then he could win the war for the Empire.

But Bel Iblis wanted to believe there was still hope. He wanted to believe the Alliance to Restore the Republic would prevail. And so, he turned his gaze away from Thrawn's ship and toward a Super Star Destroyer that had been relentlessly assaulting Alliance ships. To attack it would also help the Alliance fleet. He opened his mouth and gave the order to ram it. At least his life would have had some meaning with this. Even if the Rebellion didn't win, at least he could take down some of the Emperor's men with him.

* * *

Thrawn watched solemnly as the ship belonging to the Rebel Alliance's great Garm Bel Iblis crashed into a Super Star Destroyer in a brilliant kamikaze blaze that set off countless unquenchable fires on the Imperial ship. The suicidal move had done just what had been intended—it had brought the great ship down.

"Give the order to the second and third groups," Thrawn told Pellaeon. "This battle has gone on long enough."

"Yes, sir," Pellaeon acknowledged.

* * *

Leia felt tears well up in her eyes at the report of Garm Bel Iblis's death. He had been a great man. It wasn't fair that it had to end like this.

She glanced over at Mon Mothma and was surprised to see that the older woman's eyes were slightly misty as well. Mon Mothma may have had her disagreements with the man, but it was obvious she cared for him, too.

Leia opened her mouth—a part of her wanted to suggest that the Alliance retreat, that the battle was lost—but the sad look on Mon Mothma's face stayed her tongue. If they gave up now, would they ever recover?

She continued listening to the battle communications, and then suddenly, there were several voices speaking at once in confusion.

"What's going on?" Mon Mothma asked urgently. "Admiral Ackbar?"

"I do not know," the Mon Calamarian admitted. "Some of the Imperial ships are firing at their comrades. Some of them have powered down, and there are…there are explosions along their sides. I do not understand what is happening. It is as if the fleet is being destroyed from within."

An unfamiliar voice came on over the speaker. "My name is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Galactic Empire. I had planned—with Garm Bel Iblis's assistance—to defect to the Alliance. Now, however, I shall have to do it with your help alone."

"What?" Leia whispered.

"The ships with captains fiercely loyal to the Empire are being destroyed in aid of the Alliance. Do you accept my assistance?"

Leia looked wide-eyed at Mon Mothma, who spoke finally, "Yes. We do."

* * *

"What?" Han asked, dumbfounded.

"We are assisting you by order of Grand Admiral Thrawn," the Imperial officer repeated.

"Who—who are you?" the Corellian stammered.

"The Stormtroopers with me are clones privately created and trained by Thrawn to obey him. The rest of us are his loyal followers—we are tired of the tyranny of the Empire."

Han was confused, and he was in pain, but he wasn't about to look a gift nerf in the mouth. "Well, uh, thanks for the assistance."

* * *

Yoda had been waiting for the right opportunity. All those years ago, he had failed to kill Palpatine, and now, for the sake of the galaxy, he had to remedy that.

Palpatine, his attention on Anakin, growled, "Fool!"

That provided the distraction Yoda needed. He used the Force to cut open one of the windows and then return his saber to himself. Palpatine's gaze snapped toward him, and Yoda threw himself forward—lightsaber up as a barrier to his opponent's blade—and with the Force pushed himself and Palpatine out the window.

As they fell from the great height of the tower, Palpatine attacked Yoda with Force lightning. Yoda, though his old body protested against this treatment as the electricity arced over his weapon, suddenly brought his hand up with his saber and stabbed Palpatine—who was confident in his power as always, even in free fall—in the heart.

The Sith Lord shrieked, and the lightning somehow continued, though its intensity had diminished. Yoda, rather than concentrating on the fall and on keeping the lightning from doing any permanent damage, focused solely on preventing Palpatine's consciousness from escaping his body.

About three quarters of the way down, there was a great manic scream, and a burst of Dark Side energy. And then Yoda, his mission finally complete, was able to let go.

* * *

Obi-Wan stared out the broken window. Soon after that terrible scream, the bodies of the two Force users had hit the ground, and there had been an even worse silence. A quest of his Force sense revealed what his heart already knew: the two brilliant presences were no longer in existence on the mortal plane.

Yoda and Palpatine were dead.

* * *

"I, uh, I think we've won?" Lando Calrissian's voice said over the communications unit unsurely. "At least, no one's attacking us anymore."

Leia and Mon Mothma exchanged a look, barely daring to hope. Had Thrawn really helped bring all this about?

Was it like Lando had just said—had they won?

* * *

Obi-Wan was not the only one stunned by the method of Palpatine's death. With the dictator's shrill cry, the clone had become eerily silent. And that gave Anakin his opening.

He slid his sword into the clone's chest and then back out. The clone looked at him with empty eyes and slumped to the ground. Anakin felt the chill of regret at taking another life, but he brushed it away. That clone had been an abomination born in Darkness. He was nothing like the clones Anakin had once led into battle and thought of as friends. He was a weapon with only the kill to live for.

"Luke," Anakin said, his breath catching in his throat as he turned to look down at his son, overjoyed suddenly now that he knew they had won, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Luke told him, his voice sounding strange. He was watching Mara, who was gazing down at her hands with an unreadable expression.

Anakin nearly questioned his son again, but the look on the boy's face made him turn away. He knelt beside Artoo and examined the droid briefly. Astromech droids' "brains" were in their heads, so Artoo's damage must have only been cosmetic. The realization made him breathe a sigh of relief, and then he walked up beside Obi-Wan, who staring out the broken window and looking down in sadness.

Anakin felt his own sorrow well up. Yoda was gone. He had sacrificed himself for the sake of the galaxy. It shouldn't have been him. It should have been Anakin himself.

Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, my friend. It was his time to go."

Anakin merely nodded in return, not trusting himself to speak. After all that had happened, he didn't want to lose the last shreds of his dignity by dissolving into tears.

They continued to stare out the window, each man lost in his thoughts.

* * *

"Do you really think Palpatine has been killed by the Jedi by now?" Pellaeon asked softly. The Alliance ships had really been whirling around in confusion, but things were starting to settle down.

Thrawn nodded and gave a slight smile. "I trust that the man once called Darth Vader got the job done."

* * *

Luke crawled over to Mara—no easy feat seeing as one of his arms ended in a stub and some of his ribs were bruised or broken. But he finally reached her, and she looked at him with foggy eyes. "Is he really gone?" she whispered.

"He is," Luke replied. "He's gone forever." He touched the uninjured side of her head tenderly, tangling his fingers in her hair. The strands were like liquid fire, and he loved every last one of them. He longed to press his face into her hair and smell the wonderful scent that was her. Instead, he contented himself with staring at her.

"I'm sorry I got myself knocked out of the fight," she said, trying to jest and wipe away her discomfort. She seemed shaky, and he couldn't blame her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from it," he told her softly. He pulled her head toward his—watching the slight hint of startlement and then warm acceptance in her eyes—and pressed his mouth to hers with the utmost gentleness. Their lips moved against each other gently, the action an affirmation of life, of love, of constant companionship. In that moment, something swelled and merged within them, making their Force bond even stronger, binding them together for all eternity. Lightly and almost playfully, he tugged at her lips with his teeth, and she smiled against his mouth. He kissed her once more and then pulled her back against him, putting his one good arm around her to keep her with him. He fought to hide his wince as his ribs protested at the movement.

He put his chin on her shoulder, allowing himself to finally breathe in her heady scent. Then he placed his mouth next to her ear and whispered, "Mara, will you please be my mate—my…my wife?"

He felt the shudder travel down her spine, and she tried to move forward a little, but his grip on her tightened. She tensed for a second, and he thought she might flee, but then she relaxed against him. "Only you would propose after what just happened," she teased.

He narrowed his eyes, a little irked she was avoiding his question, but then he smiled and moved her hair aside with his chin so he could place a kiss against her neck. As he did so, he felt another chill pass over her, and he grinned to himself, feeling pleased. "Mara, will you please marry me? Please?" He was practically begging.

He felt more than heard her light chuckle. "You're going to keep asking until I say 'yes,' aren't you, Luke?"

"Mara," he told her seriously, "I don't want to live without you. I love you so much—you've become a part of me. Today, our love has triumphed over the past. Nothing worse can happen than what already has. I want to be with you, Mara. I want to be with you always. Do you…do you feel the same way?"

She lightly brushed aside his arm and turned to face him. Her eyes were shining with moisture, but there was a smile on her face. "I don't want to live without you either. I'll marry you, Luke, and I'll be with you always."

His grin nearly split his face. And then—careful of his ribs—he pulled her face toward his and showered it with kisses—her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her chin, her nose. She pushed him away, her face tinged with red. "Come on, Luke—your father _is_ in the room."

"I don't care," he proclaimed, but he allowed her to pull him to his feet. He grimaced, and she raised an eyebrow in question, but he shook his head. There would be plenty of time to tend to their wounds.

They walked over to the two older Jedi and felt the wave of their sadness. They all stood there in quiet for a few moments, respecting the death of the Jedi Master who had taught them all so much.

Finally, Anakin commented, "I think Artoo will be all right."

Obi-Wan smiled slightly, though he continued gazing out the window. "You always did love that droid too much."

"I'm glad he'll be fine," Luke commented.

Anakin turned to look at Luke and Mara, a grin on his face. "So, when are you two getting married?"

Mara groaned, though her cheeks were slightly pink. "I never thought Darth Vader would one day be asking me that," she muttered.

"He's no longer Darth Vader," Luke said firmly. "Now, he is and always will be Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin smiled and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Thank you, Luke." He then turned toward Mara. "I will be proud to call you my daughter."

Luke wasn't sure why, but Mara's eyes filled up with tears. "Th-thank you, Anakin," she said.

Luke found her right hand with his left and squeezed it. She squeezed back, and he smiled. They had done it. Now, all would be right with the galaxy.

* * *

**Author's Note:**** The epilogue should be posted in a few days. :) Thanks for the feedback!**


	31. Rising

"Daddy, Garm is being mean to Artoo again!"

Luke stood from the table and steeled himself as his young son careened into him. The Jedi Master had been trying to sneak in a quiet cup of hot chocolate while everyone else was in the other room, but that evidently wasn't meant to be. Picking up the boy, Luke smiled at him and asked patiently, "What happened, Ani?"

Little Ani crossed his arms. "Bail said Garm wouldn't color on Artoo, and Garm said he would, and Bail said nuh uh, and Garm said uh huh—"

"And then Garm starting coloring on Artoo?" Luke guessed, shifting the child on his hip so he could see his face.

He still found it hard to believe sometimes that he was a father. When Mara had first been pregnant with little Anakin, Luke had been terrified—he'd known only of Tusken parenting techniques (such as they were). He had known _nothing_ about human parenting. Mara had been just as fearful as he was, but they had attempted to prepare themselves, reading countless holobooks on the subject and talking to everyone who might have ever had contact with children at any point in their lives. And then, when their son was born, it was as if everything had suddenly just _clicked_. Their family had simply grown in number by one, and they could figure it all out together. Everything would be okay. It wasn't scary anymore.

Luke smiled at his son, who was nodding his head vigorously. "Uh huh," Ani confirmed, seeing he had his father's attention. He stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Luke swatted the boy's hand and received a dirty look. "Your mother told you not do that," he admonished the child.

"Not to do what?" a female voice asked.

Luke looked up and saw his wife and sister entering the room. Following them was Han, who had Garm on his back, and the elder Anakin, who had Bail on his hip. Everyone looked tired—Bail was sleeping against his grandfather, and even the especially hyperactive Garm was rubbing his eyes to keep himself awake.

Having a birthday sleepover for the Solo twins had seemed like a good idea at the time. Luke, his son, and his wife lived on Tatooine—where the two adult Jedi taught Padawans in a section of the Jundland Wastes avoided by Tuskens due to krayt dragon activity in recent years—but it had been a while since they had seen the young twins (and, of course, Han and Leia).

As a member of the Triad and Queen of Alderaan, Leia was frequently busy, so for her to have been able to clear her schedule for a few days was something close to a miracle. Though the war against the Empire had been won, there was still a lot of work to do, and there likely would be for years to come, so Leia was constantly swamped in work related to bolstering the fledgling New Republic. The other members of the Triad—Mon Mothma, who would probably be involved in politics in some capacity until the end of her life, and Thrawn, whose intelligence apparently extended far beyond the battlefield—assisted with the work, and Talon Karrde was always able to provide important information and resources (_for a price_, naturally), but it seemed there was always some new ambassador arriving who needed tending to or some old ambassador whose ruffled feathers needed smoothing.

A birthday party for the two male twins had appeared to be a great way to escape that work for a short time. The only problem was…it was proving more of a trial than a vacation. The cake and sweets the three little boys had consumed at dinner had kept them up all night, and the adults had been running from one side of the Solos' apartment to the other in the attempt to either keep peace or find a moment of it. While Artoo had been of some help in distracting the hyper boys, Opakwa and Threepio had seemed to prefer to stay out of the range of their sticky fingers (as the children had shown themselves to be averse to learning about history or new languages).

"Nothin'," Ani cried out to his mother, a frightened expression on his face. He obviously didn't want to be punished. "I wasn't doin' nothin'!"

Luke smiled and looked at his brother-in-law. "I hear one of your boys has been marking on my droid."

Han gave him a lopsided grin. "Now, would one of my kids do that?"

"Yes!" proclaimed Garm proudly.

"You're not supposed to admit to it," Han grumbled. But he was grinning proudly.

"Auntie Rouge says you aren't supposed to lie," Garm said matter-of-factly after yawning. Leia's two aunts came from Alderaan to visit the twins as often as they could—and they usually came bearing a lot of advice in addition to piles of presents.

"And she's right," Leia told him, taking Garm down off her husband's back and setting him on the floor. "Now, don't you think it's time for you to go to sleep like your brother?"

"Ani's not sleepin'," Garm said stubbornly.

"Well, _someone_ let Ani sleep on the whole ship ride here," Mara told him, throwing a look at her husband.

Luke cleared his throat, ready to divert his wife's attention to something else. "Where's Artoo?"

"Probably hiding with Threepio and Opakwa," Leia answered, rolling her eyes. "Hey!" she exclaimed suddenly, glaring at Garm. The boy had his hand in the air and a sheepish expression on his face—he'd been trying to remove Leia's lightsaber—her father's _former_ lightsaber—from her hip with the Force.

"Garm," admonished Luke's father in a stern but quiet voice, "you know lightsabers aren't toys. You are never _ever_ allowed to touch one without permission."

"Grandpa—" the little boy began to protest.

"_No_," Anakin said firmly.

"I think we know which parent he takes after," Mara murmured to Luke.

"Garm is in trouble," said Ani with a giggle.

"Be nice," Luke reprimanded, setting the child down.

"It's almost sunrise," Mara commented, looking toward the balcony.

"Let's go watch it," Luke said warmly, taking his son's hand in his left and his wife's hand in his right.

They walked out onto the balcony, followed by the rest of their exhausted group.

They stared down at Coruscant from the Imperial Palace.

The planet's capital never seemed to sleep. The lights of buildings and ads and speeders flashed everywhere in the darkness, blinking testaments that this was the heart of the galaxy. The fight to retake the city might have been difficult, but it had been worth it.

Now, Luke was the head of the Jedi Order. He made a quiet teacher, but his students all respected him. His, however, was a new order. He had spoken with Mara, with Anakin, with Obi-Wan…and even with the spirits of Qui-Gon and Yoda (who had continued to be able to use the Force beyond to death to speak with the living), trying to figure out what path the Jedi should take. He had decided that he wanted his students to immerse themselves in the galaxy, and he worked toward that end.

One change he had implemented was that his newly created Jedi Academy would be spread across different worlds, thereby allowing students to experience different worlds as they learned different techniques. On Dagobah, they would experience the wisdom of Yoda's spirit; on Yavin IV, they would hear Qui-Gon's gentle stories; on Alderaan, they would learn from the stern but kind Obi-Wan; on Coruscant, they would listen to the brutal lessons Anakin had learned; and on Tatooine, they would learn from Luke and Mara how to face the demons within themselves.

And the new order went even further than that. Jedi were not to be trained as Jedi only—they were to work toward specific goals to enable them to take different positions in the New Republic. Battle Master, Historian, Seer, Teacher, Philosopher, Councilor, Inventor, Writer, Guardian, Medic, Bodyguard, Messenger, Ambassador—these positions and more were available to prospective Jedi Knights. No longer would the Jedi be locked away in a tall tower from the rest of the galaxy. Instead, they would be spread among the people of the New Republic, providing assistance according to their strengths, visible rather than mysterious, individuals rather than pawns. They would be allowed family and friends—and they would not be taken away as children like the Jedi of old.

Luke faced more than one argument against his plans, but he had been firm, and Mara had stood beside him. It was the dawning of a new age. If he was to be the head of the order, then he would decide its path.

Inhaling deeply, feeling utterly content, he smiled down as his son tugged to be picked up. Lifting the boy with one arm, he placed his free arm around Mara's waist and stared at the sky.

As the sun rose, red began to lighten the dark blue of night. Pinks and purples splashed across the sky, and soon the edge of Coruscant's shining orb was visible.

He felt serene…at peace. Happy.

The Jedi would rise again, and the New Republic would eventually become as strong as the Old Republic had been. The galaxy was finally righting itself, and he could stare at that beautiful Coruscanti sunrise with no regrets.

He glanced over at his sister, who was leaning against her husband, Garm holding her hand sleepily. Their faces were filled with contentment.

And then he turned to look at his father, who was still holding tightly on to Bail. The little boy opened his bleary eyes for a second and whispered warmly, "Love you, Grandpa," and then he fell back asleep. Anakin smiled to himself and pressed a kiss to the top of his grandson's forehead.

Luke slowly brought his eyes back to the sunset. Yes. All was right with the galaxy. If his time with the Tusken Raiders had led him to this, he couldn't wish away a single second of it.

He watched as the sun continued to rise in the sky.

* * *

**Author's Note:**** And…that's all she wrote! :) Thanks for hanging on this long (and sorry if the ending is a bit cheesy)! I apologize that I have been such a terrible updater, but at last it is done! I was hesitant about where I went with the order of Jedi (including having the spirits hang on), but I figured I might as well stick with what I planned and try to be different. A big thanks to all reviews of this story and "Tatooinian Sunset." I have always been very appreciative of your support!**


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